


An Eye for an I

by hetalia_textbook, kas_tikk, orphan_account, PurplePatchwork, youmakeme_sikkelsen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Collab work, Dystopia, M/M, Work In Progress, an eye for an i au, blind!america
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetalia_textbook/pseuds/hetalia_textbook, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kas_tikk/pseuds/kas_tikk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePatchwork/pseuds/PurplePatchwork, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmakeme_sikkelsen/pseuds/youmakeme_sikkelsen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drawing the short end of the stick has always been a problem for Alfred F. Jones, especially in the corrupt society he calls home. To avoid pity, he closes himself off from his brother, his parents, and the whole world, shrouded in ignorance. A chance encounter causes his world to turn upside down and with it, a window of opportunity opens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sight For Sore Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a collaborative work. The AU is centered on a society where the number of eyes you get is dictated by how many I's are in your first and last name. Maximum number of eyes are 4, lowest is 0. Nicknames are forbidden, and the only loophole is through marriage or divorce. There's also a hierarchy of sorts in that the blind people live in the slums, one-eyed get apartments, two-eyed get suburbs, three-eyed get to live in mansions/villas, and the four-eyed get everything the three-eyed get only they're secluded due to their rarity.
> 
> This'll be updated once every two weeks after the third chapter is posted. The author will be mentioned at the beginning in the notes section.
> 
> Author of Chapter One: Kasi

Calloused hands felt around for wrinkled bedsheets as Alfred F. Jones struggled to escape the confines of his bed to welcome the morning. _‘I should be used to this already,’_ he thought sullenly as he took cautious, shaky steps towards the connected bathroom. Being blind was no walk in the park.

Due to his name, he became one of the many to remain sightless for the end of his days. He envied those blessed with I’s in their names---they were able to see the crinkles of a face, the dawn of a sunrise, the flora and fauna, all the wonders of the world they live in. He still had his other senses, but they seemed dull in comparison to what he’s been told by his family and friends over the years. He longed for the gift of sight like a beggar for spare change.

Sighing, he snapped out of the depressing train of thought and located his dresser in order to get ready for another grueling day at work as a taste tester. _‘It’s not like I’m qualified for any other job,’_ he pondered, _'I don’t even know what I look like, what I dress myself in, or even what I put in my mouth. It’s all a blur to me. But I should be glad that they felt sorry for me and hired me in the first place.’_ It’s not like he wasn’t satisfied with the pay, oh no, anything but that. He just wished he could do a job that he wanted to do, not a empty space open to anybody who has to suffer like him.

Making sure he was presentable, as much as he could anyway, the blond grabbed the doorknob firmly and stepped outside, taking a big gulp of fresh air and following the familiar smells and noises on the path where he normally walked to the sweet shoppe. 

Wandering aimlessly down the street, Alfred kept his head down and his face covered while he listened to the random chatter of the busy people passing by. 

Suddenly, he felt his center of balance throw itself off and the world spin for a brief moment as he fell towards the hard concrete. A subsequent “Oof!” resounded from both parties, then the large man on the receiving end snarked, “Why do you not watch where you are going?”

That alone sparked anger in the the pit of his gut, for he knew the type of malice and disgust laced in the stranger’s voice. That alone clued him in on how _privileged_ he was.

“Well, _sorry, buddy,_ I can’t exactly do that because I CAN’T SEE!” he barked back, lifting his head and taking off his tattered hood to show him. A pregnant silence descended after his unexpected outburst as everyone turned to look at the cause of the commotion. Alfred sat there, breathing heavily, shaking with unshed tears in his pearl-grey eyes. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself with a flush of embarrassment situated on his face.

The man stood there with a look of guilt on his face and decided not to anger him any further. “I am very sorry, little one. I did not know. My name is Ivan Braginski. I was in such a rush and I did not see you there. I would like to make it up to you.”

Alfred hesitated, inwardly counting the number of I’s in his name. _‘Three.’_ he concluded. _‘He must have three eyes, then.’_ He lifted himself up with a grunt and dusted himself off. “You _really_ don’t have to do that, I’ll be fine,” he answered, still slightly disoriented. But he wouldn’t tell him that. He was afraid that he’d look down on him, other than literally, of course. 

“I insist.” Alfred didn’t trust the new sugary-sweetness that had replaced the edgy, menacing tone from earlier. “Like I said before, no thanks.” A feeling of uneasiness swept over him as he slowly tried to back away.

In a bundle of quick reflexes, Ivan hoisted him up onto his shoulders and ran in the opposite direction. “HEY! Put me down!” Alfred yelled as he swiped at the man’s head, missing each and every time. “HELP!” He turned his head towards the sound of people frantically and desperately, trying to get their attention. Unfortunately, Ivan quickly clamped a gloved hand around his mouth, shutting him up as he continued sprinting.

“I will not take no for an answer, comrade~” He sang as he made another corner. “Now, if you do not mind, please tell me where you work so that I may bring you there.”

The persistent boy kept his mouth shut, refusing to give in to his demands. Instead, he snarkily remarked, “You know this is basically kidnapping, right?”

“You are not crying out for help anymore, are you? Besides, you are not a child. You look around twenty, if I am not mistaken.” Ivan retorted, grinning like a madman.

“Smart alec,” Alfred muttered. Out loud, he countered, “ _I_ don’t even know what I look like. How would I know? Plus, I guess nobody would really care if I disappeared anyway. Except for probably Mattie. And Francis. And Arthur.” He involuntarily cringed at the last one. If the Brit ever heard of this fiasco, he’d wig out and never leave him out of his--well, Francis’--sight again!

Ivan came to a stop near a butcher’s shop and gently put him down. “Surely that is not true.” he assured him. “Oh, silly me! I did not get your name.”

“Alfred. Alfred F. Jones.”

“Ah! Fredka it is!” he chirped. The ashen blond took a look at his watch and grimaced. “I am late, and must be going. You can take care of yourself, _da?”_

“Yeah, I think I’ll be alright, big guy.” Ivan smiled at the term of endearment and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder as a means of goodbye, since waving would serve no purpose.

Hearing the heavy footsteps grow quieter, Alfred began to think again. _‘Ivan Braginski, huh? Sounds Russian to me. Interesting…’_ “Hold on, wait a minute…”

“I DON’T KNOW WHERE I AM!”


	2. An Eye Opener

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, it's Kasi again! So, ivan-braginskys-wet-dreams, or M as I like to call her, did this chapter. This is also the first PruCan chapter. You may start to realize that after a while, the two stories do come together to make one due to interactions between family and friends, and what have you. But I won't bore you with any long winded explanation. Go ahead, read and review! She'd love to hear from you guys.
> 
> ~ K

Matthew drummed his fingertips against the smooth linoleum tiles of his kitchen counter, waiting impatiently as the coffee machine dribbled smooth brown liquid into a pot. He had a couple of voice messages on his phone and work emails that he wasn’t able to respond to. Not until he had some coffee in him.

A couple of those missed calls were most likely from family. He didn’t really get many callers otherwise, and he admittedly tried to keep salespeople on the phone for longer than they needed to be just for some contact besides _them._ Not that he didn’t adore the dysfunctional mess he called his family. He did, dearly, but he needed a life away from them after all. 

Helping his brother had always taken up most of that time though, and lord knew that Alfred had a tendency to say things he probably shouldn’t at the wrong moments. The only really defining difference between the twins, besides the eyesight, had to be their personalities. Some days he wished he could leave his house and be as boisterous as his twin and talk to his brother’s friends the way Alfred might, but it was much easier said than done, and during one failed attempt he burst back into his house panting and sweating with the realization that his brother had made some pretty ruthless enemies. Once he got a death threat which he politely referred to a different address. They were so grateful that Matt didn’t call the cops that they anonymously left him one of those fruit bouquets. He considered making that person a friend as he ate some chocolate strawberries, but he knew he’d end up calling the police when they found out Matt had given them an address that wasn’t Alfred’s. It really was a shame though. They seemed nice.

Finally there was a shrill beep and the coffee was done. Matt already had his mug on hand and poured some in without waiting even a second for it to cool down. Burning his tongue was a sharp, painful reality check though and he let out a tiny groan as he set his cup down. He begrudgingly decided to settle on his phone and laptop in the meantime, which he transported into the kitchen mechanically. 

Of course the calls were from Alfred. He immediately deleted the notifications and went through the voice messages. The first one was more than a little alarming. It didn’t even begin with a customary “Hey Matt! Hope you slept well. Just calling to let you know…”. Alfred’s messages never started that way but wouldn’t a civilized greeting be so sweet in the morning? Instead he was greeted by panicked gasps and jumbled shouting. He could make out “lost”, “Russian” and “kidnapped”, but otherwise he didn’t make the effort to understand much else. In fact he pulled the phone away to spare his eardrums, rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, and steadied himself in time to listen to the end of the second message, “Oh, wait, never mind. This building feels familiar.”

Matt deleted all of them. That one line might as well have meant “crisis averted, don’t stress bro.”

After all that he listened to a message from his father and made a mental note to call back during his lunch break. He usually did anyway. Finally his attention was turned to his laptop, and by this point his coffee was cool enough to drink as he read (his tongue was still a little raw, but the coffee was good and he didn’t give a crap). 

It was the usual, thankfully. His “usual” was always close to pandemonium but at least in the workplace things calmed down. Animals were so much easier to deal with than human beings. They didn’t require much more than a friendly smile and a degree to make them all better. Plus people were grateful to him for the work he did and he just knew that one day when he saw a former patient on the street he wouldn’t have to suffer through the awkward “Hey...you! How...how are you, friend? When was the last time I saw you?” They never remembered him until he asked about the pet, and then the realization was quick and short lived. They usually weren’t sure how to make conversation after that and vice-versa. But one day someone would. And one day he’d be grateful for the encounter.

The majority of his emails consisted of notices about walk-ins that day, and there weren’t too many. Sometimes a puppy was just trying to get used to his new home or a bird was molting and very loving, overly concerned owners were quick to assume the worst. He was delighted at one point to find out that someone would be bringing their golden retriever. The bigger and fluffier the better. Once or twice a nurse would send him a cat video and he’d watch it before work. Today a cat was climbing into a glass vase and couldn’t get out, but you could see it curled up and meowing. Matt laughed a little more than he would have liked to admit to anyone, and even gave a tiny snort.

With the trapped kitty aiding him in his endeavours for the day, he was able to dress for work and leave the house with at least a little more of a bounce in his step than he otherwise would have had. Plus it seemed like a nice day so far, which meant that his walk to work was pleasant. Overall, for reasons that were external and some internal ones that he couldn’t explain, he felt like that day was going to be a particularly great one.

By lunchtime he knew that Francis would appreciate the snake story very much. He would probably spin some tale about how Matthew and the snake were lovers in a past life, both human, and were separated by some horrible twist of fate only for Matt to save it now. He knew what to expect from these stories already, but that didn’t stop him from craving to hear them. He blamed Francis on his becoming a hopeless romantic. As much as he and the world around him reminded him that he wasn’t able to step into a fairy tale he was selectively ignorant to some aspects of the truth. Maybe that’s why his loneliness wasn’t all that crushing. He had the pets and his family and the stories. Especially the stories.

Admittedly as Francis spoke he found his mind drifting to when he was younger. He and Alfred had exhausted their collection of children’s storybooks and both Francis and Arthur had gotten tired of reading the same ones over and over, so they started telling ones of their own. Before they got into the fictional romantics that Matt was so enamored with to this day, they had told stories from their own childhood. Stories from when they were Matt and Alfred’s age, which was a concept that was very foreign to him at the time. Papa existed before Matt and Alfred did. They were kids who didn’t know that the other person existed, or even that their kids would exist. Matt didn’t know who his partner would be or who his kids were yet either, but he knew somehow that they were out there, and would hide his flushed grins under his blankets.

Of course it was Matt who first asked how the two men met. Who else would have done it? Alfred was too focused on the dramatic aspects of their lives. The adventures with scenery that they could describe in detail. Matt, of course, knew why Alfred loved these things, but his fathers were no writers and having been able to see his whole life meant that he knew their descriptions were overly poetic at best. But they had to please Alfred. It made Matthew a little sad to watch his brother’s eye close and see that small, content, wishful smile come onto his face. So he switched the topic to emotions. He had to. 

And oh heavens was the story romantic. To this day he would sigh and let his eyelids flutter. They’d both gotten so lucky. They used to be enemies. They absolutely despised each other in fact, but after being forced into close contact for a while they began to warm up to one another’s company. Francis said he fell in love in little bursts, and still does to this day. But deciding to get married was the most difficult position they’d ever put themselves in. When the government decided, randomly, who would adopt a different last name, there was a 50% chance that Arthur Kirkland would go to Arthur Bonnefoy and lose his remaining eye. He made that decision anyway and took a risk that Francis called “both completely stupid and utterly romantic.” Arthur would try to downplay it, or even get a little huffy over the comment, but Matt could see the rosiness in his cheeks. 

Alfred and Matthew’s names were decided by random lot too, and Matt was blessed with the last name Williams. Two Is. His brother, Jones, was not so lucky. But that was how the world worked and marriage seemed to be the only loophole anyone could think of. Of course, a divorce would undo what Francis and Arthur had done, but he preferred not to think about that.

“Are you even listening to me?” Matt’s father snapped over the phone and he was brought out of his daydream. “You’re chewing your lunch too loud, my love. That’s not attractive. Please, work on that.”

“Sorry Papa.” Matt replied and put his sandwich down. Did he really? As nice as Francis was he couldn’t handle it when he was given things to ‘work on’. So much for “love is everywhere”. If that snake didn’t mind his loud chewing in their past life then why should a human now care?

“Did you hear? Your brother was assaulted this morning. It’s kind of a funny story.” He started. This was how the other half of his conversations went. Family, family, family.

“Kind of. Last I heard he was okay now so I’m stepping away from the issue. Something about a Russian?”

“Yes. Sounds like a scene from a movie. I wanted to know more but I haven’t been able to call back. He’s at work now I think. Tell him that his fathers miss him. They never get calls from him anymore.” He lowered his voice now and Matt could hear the smirk. “Arthur misses him the most, but he’s too proud to say so.”

"Of course he is. You know I'm not a messenger though, right? Can't you tell him yourself?" The front door had a bell which would ring whenever people came in, and just then he heard it chime. "Listen I have to go. I love you both. Call you later." He said quickly and hung up before there could be a response. Did all old men like to keep people on the phone after they said goodbye or what?

He heard some conversation happening in the hall outside with the receptionist and then the jingle of a collar bouncing down the hall and to his door. Matt had installed a doggy door in the door leading to his office for his regulars, who always knew where to go to get a treat. Matt got one out of his cabinet and readied himself for an entrance.

A particularly large sheepdog crashed unceremoniously into the door and tumbled onto the wax floor before changing its course for Matt's desk. He knew this one immediately and dropped to his knees to greet it.

"Lukas!" He exclaimed after the dog barked in his face. He held up the treat and the dog ate it from his hand, paws resting on Matt's bent knee. "How nice of you to come back to see me!"

This dog was significantly more active and excitable than the other dogs who cam into his office, but knowing Lukas' owner this was another panicked case of "he'd been sleeping more than usual." He tried to explain to Ludwig that dogs were like children, they could handle a lot more than people think. He wasn't interested in children. Only dogs.

"Hello Mr. Beilschmidt." Matt greeted as he pet Lukas. "Back again? It's only been a few weeks." He hadn't bothered to look up at the person who had followed the dog into the office, but if he'd looked up he would have known that this wasn't Lud at all.

"Um, actually my brother didn't come today." The stranger commented and rubbed his arm. Matthew blinked a few times and cleared his throat. 

"O-Oh, sorry. I just assumed he'd be here. He always is." Matt explained and stood up. The dog looked from one person to the other, tail wagging.

"If you ask me he comes to you way too often. He's such a sap when it comes to those damn puppies." He nodded at Lukas, who was oblivious to the gesture. Matt couldn't take his eyes off of the dog. Was what he did just rude? "Really. you'd think they were all dying with the way he treats them. This one just had some gunk in his eye. I'm not touching it myself, but he assumed it was some sort of serious eye infection. Do you seriously deal with him all the time?"

Matt nodded, this time making eye contact. He wasn't sure exactly which eye to look at. Etiquette all went out the window for him when he started talking to people, but he did his best to remember. "Ah yeah well, he really cares about them. Plus if I'm being honest he's a little intimidating. I wouldn't refer him to another vet without being at least a little scared." He smiled a little when the other man chuckled, figuring he said something right.

"He's a softy, trust me. But you're a good person for dealing with him. I know sometimes I can't, so it says a lot about you." He winked, but Matt's brain had a hard time processing it as a wink. Why though? He'd met plenty of people with three eyes. He shouldn't have so many mental stumbles. As he smiled the other man held out his hand for a handshake. "My name's Gilbert. You can call me Gil."

"Nice to meet you, Gil." Matt greeted and took his hand, but he paused after a second. "Gil? But..."

"Last name is the same as my brother's. If that's what you're confused about." With his other hand he gestured to his face and Matt exhaled sharply, trying to laugh it off.

"O-Oh yeah. Of course. Sorry, that was silly of me." He tried to play it off and kept shaking the hand in front of him. Gil just smiled, but not in an entirely insulting way. In fact he looked a little amused.

"Your name, Dr. Williams?" He asked before Matt had to let out another nervous laugh.

"Oh yeah, sorry, um it's Matthew. Matt, I guess." He replied and finally dropped Gil's hand. He felt a little stupid, but also kind of happy. Here it was. Here was the friendly, non-generic conversation with a patient. It felt okay, albeit him being nervous through it all. "Here, can you help me put Lukas on the table? I'm sure you're right that he's okay but it's good to check."

Gil nodded and walked around to the other side of the dog, who looked more than happy to see both humans bending towards him at the same time. He didn't fidget once he was being lowered onto the table, and their arms wrapped around the dog Matt could feel the back of his hand resting on Gil's rib cage. 

"Ew...is this what you were talking about?" Matt asked and gestured to the stuff in the corner of the dog's eye. 

Gil smiled at the reaction and nodded. "Yup. Honestly he thinks that's some sort of obscure doggy pink eye."

Matt couldn't help but snort and immediately covered his mouth, which sent Gil into peals of laughter. "I knew the vet would appreciate that. I mean really, I had a sore throat yesterday but that doesn't mean I have throat cancer."

Matt's laughter grew and he leaned over to a tissue box behind the examination table. "Stop it you shouldn't make fun of him." Matt said between small giggles. "He really cares about them."

"His smothering it what's going to kill them." Gil muttered, to which Matt elbowed him gently. He paused immediately after to gauge Gil's reaction to that. He never elbowed anyone but his brother. Thankfully the reaction was mild, almost as if he hadn't done it to begin with. In fact they made eye contact and Gil smiled at him, eyes one and two wrinkling in the corners. Matt smiled back and surprisingly he found that the silence was comfortable. He never had comfortable silences with anyone before.

He cleared his throat and wiped the stuff away, letting the silence grow. There was his good omen for the day then.

"He looks healthy to me. You?" Matt asked and wiggled the dirty tissue near Gil, who instinctively leaned away.

"Whoa, whoa, hey who gave you our license?" Gil commented, obliviously revolted by the tissue. Matt threw it out in a bin labeled "biohazard" and gave a little laugh.

"I'll take that as a yes. Well, I guess we're done here." He said and put his hands in his coat, shrugging. That was kind of a disappointment honestly.

"Please. I'll be back. You can bet on it." He replied and slapped his thigh twice to signal the dog should jump down from the table, which it did. "Any treatments you can recommend?"

Matt raised an eyebrow. "For that? Besides not sleeping?" He asked and the two shared another laugh.

"Well...I'll see you then." Gil said and nodded. For good measure, just before he left he winked again, but this time with a different eye. Standing alone in his empty office he realized that this was probably what that good omen had been talking about. In a burst of glee he smiled and bounced on his heels.

He'd never been more excited to see Lud's dogs than he was in that moment.


	3. Don't Roll Your Eyes at Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big sister Liz can be overbearing when she wants to and whether you like it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yo, this is Kasi again, and I wrote this chapter!
> 
> Anyway, don't mind me, enjoy chapter three! Hey, that rhymed...
> 
> ((I sort of feel that I write shorter chapters than my fellow writers. Also, I'm sorry about the Spanish, I'm a French kind of person. T~T))

_Chapter 3: Don’t Roll Your Eyes at Me_

 

Four hours. It took him four hours to get back all the way back to the sweet shoppe. Sweaty and exhausted, Alfred leaned his head on what he believed was the countertop and let out a huge gust of air. ‘ _Wow, the counter feels colder than usual…_ ’

“Alfred, my boy, that’s the refrigerator.” Elizaveta Edelstein, owner and proprietor of Édesszájú, walked up to the young adult just as he jumped up from extreme cold and fright, colliding with a chair near the front of the store. Alfred recovered quickly with a huff, muttering intelligibly about “stupid Russians” and being “knocked down on my ass all the time.”

“Is something the matter, Alfie?” Alfred just knew from that uppity lilt in her voice that she was on the prowl for some juicy gossip. He crossed his arms and turned away. He didn’t need his eyes to know that she was throwing a mini pity-party just to weasel an answer out of him.

After minutes of meaningless begging and pleading, he noticed silence overtake the room. Before he could even open his mouth, he felt the cold metal of a frying pan resting on his skull. ‘ _So she’s resorted to brute force now, huh? This hasn’t been the first time._ ’ Flashbacks of banshee wailing and the clanging of metal played through his mind in slow-motion. Everyone knew not to mess with Elizaveta when she wanted to dig up dirt. OR when she was pissed beyond belief. Even her husband Roderich knew to duck and cover when times got tough.

“Spill the beans, _boy_ , or else I drop you like a hot potato,” she hissed into his ear, lowering the frying pan closer to his scalp of messy blond hair.

“Okay, okay! I give, I give!” he surrendered. He began hesitantly, “I met...someone...this morning.” Alfred closed his eyes tightly in preparation for her high squeals of joy. When they didn’t come, he opened one eye cautiously. Nothing. The other one. Safe. As soon as he uncovered his ears, she grabbed his shoulders and proceeded to shake him vigorously. “Who is he? Where is he from? What is he like? Where’d you find him? How’d you meet him?” Her mouth moved a mile a minute until Alfred looked more like a bobblehead than a person.

“Liz, calm down! You’re gonna break my neck with your freakish strength!” he warbled out as the shaking reached its limit. He rubbed his neck soothingly as he kicked out to find a chair. ' _Bingo,_ ’ he cheered mentally as he sat down and began to regale his encounter with the mystery man known as Ivan Braginski.

“Three eyes, huh?” He nodded. “So he must be one of those special ones, correct?” Another nod. “Great!” she jumped out of her seat, barely containing her excitement. “Do you know what that means?” he shook his head, confused. “He’d be able to grant you the sight you’ve always wanted!”

Alfred’s wheels were spinning faster in his head than they ever had before. He had forgot about that until now. A spark of hope ignited in his chest, but then he remembered what happened this morning and he grew bitter.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Eliza, hold your horses. This isn’t going to happen, I knew that for a fact. One, I just met him this morning, two, he KIDNAPPED me and left me in an unfamiliar neighborhood, and three, I don’t even like him like that! I’m more willing to choke the shit out of him with his stupid scarf than date him!”

She placed her hands on her hips in frustration. “Haven’t you heard of ‘love at first sight’, Alfie?” Taking a look at his irritated face, she tried again. “Er, um--” Before she could come up with another analogy, the bell chime rang at the door.

“¡Hola, mi amigos! Eliza! Alfredo!” He could recognize that voice anywhere. Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, the man infamous for his two last names, and known to be a good friend of the Vargas twins. Even though he was looked down upon because he was labeled differently than everyone else, he still kept his head up high and a smile on his face. Alfred wished he could have two names like him, so he would at least get a chance to see, at least through one eye at the most. He and the twins were known for having a major sweet tooth, so why go anywhere else but Édesszájú? Elizaveta snapped back like a rubber band as she sped to the counter, Alfred on her heels. “Your usual, am I right?”

“Sí! Lovi and Feli just love, love, LOVE your cannolis.” he supplied, handing her the usual $7.50. “Alfred?”

“I’m on it!” Running his fingers over the Braille labels, he was able to locate the dessert in no time at all. He actually loved working with Elizaveta--she was like the mom he never had. She always accustomed to workspace to fit his needs. He cherished each and every sentiment that she put in to make his working experience just as equal as anyone else.

He handed the bag to her as she threw the bag to Antonio. “Here you are, Toni! Come back soon! And tell Lovino I said hello!” The Spaniard blushed scarlet as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Let me guess, he’s ignoring you again?” Eliza deadpanned. “Classic Lovino,” Alfred added.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure little Lovi will warm up to me again!” He lifted up the bag in triumph and started to head to the door. “Bye, Toni! Don’t forget to tell us how it went when you come back!” she called out and waved. Alfred smiled, hearing the bell chime for the second time today, signifying another satisfied customer.

After watching him turn the corner, she turned around sharply to continue her lecture, but Alfred had left his post. “Alfred!” Her eyes darted to the left where she caught Alfred red-handed trying to sneak out the front door. “Shit!” he whispered. ‘ _Why did I think that would work? The bell would have gave me away anyway._ ’ He facepalmed. ‘ _Man, am I a dumbass. I should just play it cool._ ’

He ran his hands through his hair and adopted a defeated look. “I’m sorry, Elizaveta. I guess I have a whole bunch of shit on my mind. I think I need to go home and relax.” he stood at the edge of the doorframe, waiting for a sign of reaction from his boss.

“Fine,” she convened. “even though you just came a half an hour ago.” Liz mumbled the last part. “Just don’t bump into anyone else today,” she teased, “you might have to pay a fine this time.” He rolled his periwinkle eyes in annoyance. “Whatever, Liz. See ya tomorrow.”

Kicking pebbles and counting them in his head as he trudged home, he thought about his family. ‘ _I hope Matt isn’t worried about me, but knowing him, he’d laugh at my expense._ ’ He slumped over, moving at a slower pace. ‘ _Dad would too, maybe even Papa. I haven’t heard from them in a while. Guess it’s time to fix that._ ’ He hurried his steps as much as he could.

‘ _I need help. I’ll call Mattie first._ ’ Alfred dialed messily, partly because of nerves alone, and put the phone up to his ear, every ring amplifying his anxiety.

 

_‘This isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be...._

                    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst, Édesszájú means sweet tooth in Hungarian!


	4. Eye Sure Hope for Good News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt fancies Gilbert? Unheard of!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by M, also known as baetroclos (her old url was ivan-braginskys-wet-dreams). This might be her last chapter, since she's going through a lot right now. I wish her well, and if she decides to pull out of the project, I won't blame her. Don't mind the turmoil, enjoy the upload.

_Chapter 4: Eye Sure Hope For Good News_

 

For the first time in Matt's young life, work became monotonous.

It wasn't that his passion had suddenly seemed dull in his eyes, just that there were things (or, rather people) on his mind that he imagined were better worth his time now. On the one hand he was interacting with animals and making money, but on the other he could interacting with a potential friend.

For once he was sad that Ludwig's dogs were nowhere to be seen. He hoped that Gil hadn't scolded him too intensely and discouraged him from sending his brother on missions armed with leashes and doggie bags. But day after day he was disappointed when a dog limped or was carried in by a patient who was only concerned about their dog and not the doctor.

He had time to figure out what was so appealing about Gilbert Beilschmidt and after a bit of time he decided that it was because this was the first person who seemed even remotely interested in the person behind the dog's health. Matt was a little embarrassed after he had this revelation because he knew that no one went into the veterinary field expecting to be showered in attention, and it was selfish in itself to be so upset that his patients didn't care to get to know him, but in his defense none of his regulars cared either. Weren't doctors always supposed to be casual acquaintances? He saw in movies and books that sometimes people spoke of their doctor as someone they made small talk with. Why then did his regulars not recognize him out of his doctor's coat? It explained why sometimes dogs barked at him when he passed by on the street, but he couldn't build a life with a dog. Dogs were components of a life, not someone he shared it with.

Not that he wanted to marry Gil or anything, but how sweet would it be to have a best friend he could call at any time, day or night, and not have to worry about whether or not he'd be a bother? He wanted to stay up late with someone other than his family members.

It was three days before there was any sign of the other man (he'd been counting), and it was on a particularly bittersweet note for both men.

Gil came in and was panicked, that much was obvious and very different from when he first met Matt. Plus he had a whining black dog nestled in his arms who was blinking slowly and with great struggles. Matt had been in his office watching more cat videos when the two burst in and he muted the computer quickly. He had to look professional after all.

"Doc you have to help me holy crap Lud is out of town and I'm taking care of the dogs and I was walking this one and pulled on the leash and his eye just bulged and I tried to push it back but he's been crying the whole way here and I don't know what to do I think I hurt hi-"

"He's a pug?" Matt guessed and was already rising from the chair to cross over to the examination table. This happened to many people who didn't do their research on the wrinkly breed of puppy and the last thing Matt wanted was for Gil to be traumatized. He was already panicking too much for the situation to be handled right. Gil nodded to confirm Matt's suspicions and set the dog down.

Ludwig usually housed bigger dogs, but Matt couldn't blame him for falling for the little wrinkly faced, bug-eyed pug. It was the eyes that made things particularly dangerous for the little guys. If the wrong leash was used and the owner pulled on its neck too hard the dog was in danger of losing an eye. Gil had done the right thing pushing it back before that happened and Matt clamped a hand over the other's shoulder. "Hey, listen, everything's going to be alright. Okay?" He asked, tilting his head to try and catch the man's eye. Eyes. Three to be exact. "This is common. Pugs do this a lot. Chances are your brother will never find out anyway. Just try to breath okay?"

Gil nodded again but he obviously wasn't paying attention. His eyes were on the puppy who used his paw to gracelessly pat at his own eye and nose. Matt pursed his lips and gave Gil's shoulder one squeeze before gently pulling the pug's paw away from its eye. He could remember this dog's name because it had come in several times before for breathing problems, yet another problem pugs had, but he wasn't about to use brainpower to remember it.

Matt wondered how to make conversation with Gil as the pug blinked up at his doctor. While Matt was trying to pull a small, harmless penlight from his pocket he maintained eye contact with the little guy, who whined in a thin voice at him. "I know my love," He cooed and gently put his hand under the dog's chin to keep it propped up. "You're okay though." He turned the light on and thankfully the pug's pupils reacted. Then he covered one of it's eyes and grabbed a toy from under the table to wave around. The dog followed it, his whines lowering in volume. Matt then tested the other eye. Just fine. With a grin he placed a kiss on the dog's head and set the toy down on its paws. The pug began chewing in good spirits, though his eyes were still watery.

"See that?" Matt asked and turned to Gil. "He's just fine. His eye is probably just very sore. You can imagine after that...Gilbert?"

Gil had been looking down and now turned away from Matt entirely. As much as he tried to conceal it Matt could see his shoulders shake a bit and immediately the doctor's eyes widened. "Gil?" He asked in a softer voice and was about to reached forward when the other straightened up and inhaled deeply.

"I'm fine." Came the cracked reply, and while it was completely mean, Matt could feel his heart swell. _Aw, he really was scared!_ He thought and smothered a smile."I'm not crying." He added, which made it more difficult for Matt to stay stoic.

"I'm sure you're not." He agreed and began to pet the pug. He was beginning to remember her name now. It had to be something like Emma. Gil inhaled deeply to try and calm himself down while Matt began wondering which eye let out the most tears. And did the tears from his third eye roll down into his nose? That must be really uncomfortable.

"Looks like another false alarm." Gilbert said when he finally calmed down. You couldn't even really tell that he was tearing up a few moments before. Matt nodded slowly as Emma tried to catch and nibble on his hand. "Thank you doctor."

"It's no problem. I was wondering when you'd come back." He admitted and averted his gaze as he said it.

"Oh I see." Gil sang. "Missed me?"

"Haha." Matt's fake laughter dripped with sarcasm to hide the fact that the answer was a resounding yes. He did miss Gil.

"Lud and I had a conversation about you actually." Gil said and crossed his arms to lean against the examination table. That suggested that he'd be staying for a while. Matt's stomach knotted.

"Gossip?"

"Sort of. Mostly me scolding him. He figured he should do something to show how grateful he is." Gilbert began reaching into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Matt's eyes would have widened if he wasn't so good at staying calm. This was it. Someone was going to ask him for his number. No one ever did that.

Sure enough Gil handed the doctor his phone to the new contact screen. He took note not to grab the phone too excitedly, to pause here and there between numbers. Just _act casual_.

"He wants to invite you over for dinner one day. Should be fun, if you're willing. And available."

"Well that depends on what day." Matt lied. "I'll have to check my schedule." He knew he wouldn't have to. "But I would be more than happy to go to your house. I've never seen all the dogs at the same time."

Gil raised an eyebrow as if unsure of how to say what he was going to say. "Actually we decided on my house...and...and Lud is optional."

A silence fell over them that was so heavy Emma stopped messing with the chew toy and its high pitched squeaks died out. Matt's mouth opened and closed in a futile effort to find words. Even his brain was stuck. "Like…" He started and began motioning between both of them. "Just you and me? Alone?" Gil nodded. "As in...a date." Gil looked down as he nodded again.

At that point a fire had been lit under Matt's ass and he quickly pulled his own phone out to test and see if he'd given the right contact. Once it worked he demanded a date and deleted anything on his calendar to put, in all caps, DINNER AT GIL'S.

The albino stood in calm patience, though on the inside he was surely just as excited. Being as sure of himself as he was he wasn't expecting rejection and obviously didn't get it. They said their goodbyes hesitantly and Gil only left when another patient shot them looks.

He couldn't wait until he could finally get off of work and text Gilbert. Sadly he was busy with back to back patients and couldn't talk before that, but as soon as he was outside his thumb was wandering over keys, wondering what he should say. 'Hey Gil!'? No...maybe that's too casual. 'Hello' also sounded creepy. Like he was a telemarketer or something. 'How are you?' Also felt like he was getting ready to ask 'what are you wearing? ;D'

He wondered how he usually got texts as greetings, but all he could really think of was Alfred's customary, "Matt. Maaaatt. Maaattiiieeee respoooond! I gotta tell you something.' Curse whoever put braille on the keypads of phones.

Alfred, as if on cue, gave Matt a call just as he was about to hit send on a text that he thought was acceptable. He decided it was only fair to pick up. He'd been ignoring the calls for a day or two now.

"Hey Al." Matt greeted, but was immediately cut off.

"Oh so now you pick up, dude?" Came his brother's voice. "It's been two days!"

"I've been busy…" Matt said and could feel heat rising to his cheeks. "Papa told me you met someone. I didn't get too many details. Relationship material?"

Alfred groaned, which was a new reaction for him whenever the talk of relationships came up. Usually Al was shameless and gave any details he could. Now he seemed annoyed...which could always just mean that this person was definite relationship material. "First Liz, then Papa, now you? What, does Dad know too?"

"Probably."

"I'm not dating the guy! He almost kidnapped me! Or...well he didn't but he left me in the middle of nowhere. Who leaves a blind person in the middle of the street?"

"I didn't hear about that part." Matt said, though he knew some details. He just thought it was funny that whoever this mystery person was did something like that. "Sounds like a soul mate to me."

"He's not. He's just kind of an asshole. An asshole who wanted to help."

"More details please."

"Well for one he can see. He's tall...I'm guessing. He had an accent. Probably Russian, because his name was Ivan."

"That's exotic. How many eyes?"

"Three."

Matt paused after that, wondering if he should tell Alfred about Gil. He decided right away that it probably wasn't for the best if his brother wanted to rant about this Ivan man, but he marveled at the coincidence. Besides, he decided that there was a chance that it wouldn't work out with him and Gil, and he thought it would be a tad embarrassing to admit later on that it was a false alarm. So he finally had a little secret all to himself. That fact gave him the strength to assure Alfred several times during a long phone call that he wasn't completely rude in telling the man off and that he should give him a chance next time.

Once the call was over Matt had gotten home and was sitting on the couch, where he was finally able to send a text that read, "I'm already excited for next week." Gilbert answered so quickly that Matt let out a snort, at which point the two talked for the rest of the afternoon.


	5. Aren't You Glad to See Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squidward: I don't need your help, and I DON'T NEED YOU!  
> (yes, this applies here)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kasi here! This chapter was written by the one and only, me! 
> 
> Enjoy this (very short) chapter! This is where things heat up. Read and review!

_Chapter 5: Aren't You Glad to See Me?_

 

Alfred lazed on his couch, constantly squirming and groaning to find the perfect position, bored and mildly exhausted as he fiddled with the wisps of hair that lined the edges of his forehead. This became a hobby of his considering the fact that he couldn't do anything else time consuming, like watching TV or playing a game.

His stomach rumbled loudly to gain his attention. The honey blond smacked his lips together thoughtfully, wondering if he should lose the comfiness of the couch or satisfy his hunger. ' _Decisions, decisions…_ '

The thundering sounds coming from his abdomen made his mind for him as he heaved himself off of the seat and took off his socks to detect the kitchen's cold, tiled floors.

After banging his head harshly into a wall trying to turn a corner, rubbing his forehead exhaustedly, he shivered violently at the feeling of the linoleum floor. There was no use questioning his safety-Matthew had Alfred-proofed the whole apartment when he first moved in. He didn't own any knives, scissors, metal, or open glass, and each room was filled with more Braille than a teenager with a pizza face.

He didn't like being treated like a child even though he was the younger brother, but he knew that his eldest only wanted the best for him. Al stretched his arms right in front of him and sensed the chilled surface of the refrigerator. He whisked the door open and roamed around. "Hm, apple, orange, old leftover something-is there _anything good here to eat?_ " he dropped to the ground and cried out melodramatically.

"Guess it's time to go to the supermarket again." He scooped up a pair of old, worn-out sneakers that he left in the hallway for convenience and moved back to the carpeted living room. "This is troublesome," he noted as he slipped on a foot at a time and burst out the door with his usual inhale. The scent of strong alcohol puzzled him, last time he remembered there wasn't a bar in the neighborhood. Trying to exit the gate, he stumbled head-first into a familiar heavy coat.

Before he could fall, a large hand encased his arm. " _Privyet_ , friend! What a surprise to see you here!" A cheery, optimistic voice rang in his ear.

"I _live here_ , Ivan," he growled viciously. "Did you follow me home or something? That's expected from someone like you." He sneered.

The tall blond shrugged off his incorrect accusation. "This is a special neighborhood, _nyet_? Only certain people like you live here. I wished to see you again and I was just passing by, so this is pure luck!" He nodded assuredly after he finished his deduction.

Exasperated, Alfred tried to walk around him without tripping over his own two feet. He had enough to deal with and he didn't need this Russian weirdo to distract him and get in his way.

"Where are you going? To work?" Ivan fell into step right behind him, towering over him like a skyscraper. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure it's _Saturday_." he commented sarcastically, snickering under his breath. "Don't you have somewhere to be or someone to bug? I'm busy as it is running a few errands." The American made a shooing motion towards a random direction, confusing Ivan.

" _Zamechatel'no_! I have nothing to do as well! My sisters will be fine without me, so I will accompany you."

' _Is this guy even listening? Or is he just messing with me?_ ' Alfred snarled. ' _Probably both. What an asshole._ '

"I don't need your help, I'll be fine on my own. Now go away!" Punctuated by a scowl, he hastened his pace.

' _Apparently the weirdo can't take a hint. I don't need anyone's help. I'm not weak. I can do things on my own._ ' His hair covered his face as he lowered his head and grit his teeth. He wasn't useless, damnit! Just because he was born with a handicap doesn't mean anything! Pushing through a sea of people, he didn't bother to apologize as his main objective was to lose the headache on his tail.

Panting heavily, he leaned against a wall for support. Footsteps echoed as they approached him and he stood shakily, joints aching from the unexpected exercise and the lactic acid buildup in his legs.

"There you are, Fredka. I had thought that I lost you-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Alfred aimed his fist and the smack of his knuckles hitting flesh slightly satisfied him. Ivan fell to the ground, eyes wide and full of shock after he felt the force of the hit inflame his face.

"I don't need anyone to BABY ME! Especially not a stranger like you who knows nothing ABOUT me!" His voice cracked, filled with emotion. "You've been privileged all your life! You don't know w-what it's like..to be someone like me." On the pavement, the Russian gazed up into dull eyes. Eyes that held no color, but contained a trapped flurry of emotions. Sadness, fear, and rejection swirled in those milky depths. He sat there captivated, unable to speak as he kept eye contact with Alfred. "I-I'm not a liability. I can do things for myself." Digging his nails into his palms, he drew small rivulets of blood.

"Just stop it! Is this how you get your sick kicks? Laughing at everyone who's beneath you? Your eyes probably do all the talking, don't they?" Ivan opened his mouth to answer the barrage of questions, but Alfred went on.

"Listen to me. I'm going to walk away and forget this ever happened. You're not going to follow me. Got that?" Armor-piercing silence. "Good." He placed one of his hands on the brick wall, stuffed the other in his pocket, and slunk away miserably.

The ashen blond sat on the concrete, dumbstruck. Dismally, he lifted himself up and gathered his bearings. Leaving the alley as well, he turned the opposite way, beginning his trek back home.

It was true, Ivan didn't know how it felt. It never concerned him, so he never bothered to look into it. Yekaterina was the only normal one with two eyes to call her own, and his little sister with only one, but no one in his family had lived with the curse of sightlessness. A "friend" of his, Eduard, did, but he wasn't very close and purposely distanced himself when he thought Ivan wouldn't notice or care. He'd been living with three eyes all his life-blindness to him is a pair of shoes too small to wear, let alone live in. His type of friendliness seemed overbearing, especially since the only friends that he had come to know were deathly afraid of his presence. But he couldn't compare them to Alfred. Alfred was...different. He was standoffish and rude, yes, but Ivan could detect the inner depths he hid under his tough exterior.

He wanted to know more about him. If he would let him in, that is. He hoped that Alfred could find it in his heart to forgive him. He never meant to come on too strong. And with that optimistic thought and a renewed pep in his step, he was on his way to his humble abode.


	6. That's Not Very NEYEce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Putting your foot in your mouth and trying to swallow it isn't going to help you out of a hole. Just sayin'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by the one and only rexlover180 (or youmakeme_sikkelsen)! Anyway, I bid you adieu, enjoy and review!

Matthew found himself staring at the paper holding the address more than actually taking in his surroundings. But this was…surreal. Really thinking about it, it was obvious that Gilbert lived in a place like this; gated community, almost mansions, grounds keepers. This was the kind of place people with three eyes had the advantage of living in. And here Matthew was used to his simple life in a simple house. Still, it was hard to imagine someone like Gilbert actually lived in a place like this. The neighborhood seemed so quiet and Gilbert was, well, Gilbert.

Matthew shook his head and looked up at the numbers on the house he'd been standing in front of for the past 5 minutes. That was the right number…this was the right neighborhood…And Gilbert wouldn't give him the wrong address, would he?

Matthew shook his head, clearing it of any doubts, as he walked forward. The yard was perfectly groomed and Matthew wondered, briefly, if the people in the neighborhood ever did things like yard work or maintenance or if they just had people do that for them. He took a deep breath at the massive double doors at the front, pausing before his hand could reach the dark wood. Why was he so nervous? He'd been texting and calling with Gilbert for hours upon hours. Then again…this wasn't just Gilbert. But still being alone with Gilbert was nerve wracking. Usually there was a dog there as a buffer. Matthew was comfortable around dogs, they helped him feel relaxed.

After just a little more slight hesitation, Matthew let his fist connect with the wood a few times, a hollow knock coming through. And then silence. No one came to the door. He could faintly hear someone talking quite loudly on the other side and he huffed. Well, he knew he was normally quiet but he wasn't that quiet. Matthew eyed the knocker on one of the doors and decided to try that. Maybe that would be louder.

With the first knock, the door moved inwards just slightly and Matthew blinked, lightly pushing the door. It swung completely inside. So Gilbert left his door unlocked? Well, in a neighborhood like this, he didn't really need to worry that much about break-ins, but this was a little ridiculous. With the door open, it was a lot easier for Matthew to hear the argument going on further inside the house.

As he closed the door, he could hear what sounded like an Italian accent…two of them. Gilbert knew Italians? Among the sounds of the shouting, Matthew could clearly hear Gilbert's cackling laughter and, occasionally, as Matthew moved to find the source, a deep rumbling comment from Ludwig. It only took a few seconds for the dogs to rush towards him and Matthew laughed quietly, hoping not to give away his snooping, as he knelt down and pet them. He really hadn't seen all of them at the same time and it was quite nice to see that they all remembered him.

Now…the question was…did Matthew continue further and figure out what this argument was about, and therefore snoop…or did he try to get someone's attention?

"Bastard!" Matthew jumped when the shouting got loud enough at one word for him to hear it. What was this argument even about? Matthew stood up slowly. Okay, so he couldn't quite calm his own curiosity. There would be no harm in just a quick peek, would there?

Matthew walked towards the sound, the dogs following after him. He figured that, with this many dogs in the house, Gilbert must have gotten used to the sound of them moving around and wouldn't think anything of it.

"And, really, I get dragged over to this stupid house enough!" the man shouting finally started making sense as Matthew neared a mostly closed door. Matthew tip-toed closer, praying the dogs wouldn't ruin this for him. "The only reason I come over is because I don't trust these stupid bastards not to touch you."

"Oh, come on, Lovi, we both know Gilbert or Ludwig would never hurt me," another man said quickly. He sounded quite chipper, considering he was being yelled at. He didn't quite seem to mind much at all. Matthew could hear Ludwig sigh heavily.

"Are you kidding me?" 'Lovi' scoffed. "Just look at that jackass, his brain's full of potatoes, you know he can't think straight!" Gilbert sounded like he was about to pass out, he was laughing so hard. "And there's this jackass that I can never trust to take anything seriously!"

"Aw, Lovi, I love you, too!" Gilbert spoke through his laughter. Matthew rolled his eyes. Who were these people? Hadn't Gilbert said they would be alone? Matthew felt almost bad now, like he was barging in on a family discussion of some sort.

"Please, the only things I really love in this house are your damn dogs, who haven't been poisoned by your stupid potatoes," 'Lovi' snapped. Gilbert snorted. "Where are they anyway? They ran off like crazy a few minutes ago." Matthew froze. No, no, please no.

He winced at the simple whistle that came through the air and the dogs didn't hesitate to bound forward, nearly knocking Matthew to the ground, and burst into the room, swinging the door open. Matthew blinked, looking into the room. Gilbert was lounging in a (quite lavish) couch, a grin cracked on his face. Ludwig stood fairly close to the door, looking stiff and uncomfortable. In the middle of the room, however, stood two men Matthew had never seen before. They looked alike enough to be brothers, at least.

"Uh," Matthew blinked when everyone turned to take in his presence. He quickly stood upright. "Sorry."

"Shit, I knew we needed to get that clock fixed!" Gilbert groaned, standing up and pointing at the clock on the wall like it was cursed. It looked like it was running about a half an hour late.

"Nice to see you, Dr. Williams," Ludwig sighed, nodding to him respectfully. It was weird enough for Matthew to see one of his most common patients outside of work, but it had to be in a tense situation like this?

"Oh, are you that friend Gil's been talking about?" the happier looking of the twins asked excitedly.

"You're talking about me?" Matthew asked in surprise and didn't miss the blush on Gilbert's face as he quickly ran towards him.

"Hey, we don't have to talk about that, let's go to the kitchen, Mattie, you look starving!" Gilbert said loudly, pushing Matthew away from the door.

"I'm not hungry, Gil," Matthew giggled.

"Shush, I said you're hungry," Gilbert hissed.

"Don't let the bastard brainwash you with any of his stupid potatoes!" Lovino shouted and Matthew couldn't help but laugh slightly as Gilbert pulled him into another door in this massive house, three dogs filing after them before he could close the door.

"Sorry, I should have been paying closer attention to the time," Gilbert winced. "And I should have listened for the door. I didn't know it was unlocked."

"It's fine, I had the dogs to greet me," Matthew laughed. "So, who were they?"

"Uh," Gilbert snorted. "Friends, I guess? Feli and Lud have a thing, they're not quite sure about it. Lovino's just a protective older brother. He's hilarious to listen to once he gets going."

"I noticed," Matthew laughed. "You seemed about ready to fall over."

"Maybe," Gilbert shrugged. "He's harmless, don't worry. He seemed to like you well enough, didn't curse at you at least."

"He seemed to hate you and your brother," Matthew laughed. He finally took in the kitchen. Naturally, everything was state of the art, and it looked impeccably cleaned, almost like no one cooked in it. There was some wear on what Matthew could see…so maybe they just had a really good cleaning staff?

"He always hates us," Gilbert smirked. "Now…since you're here and I was the jerk that forgot to plan something for dinner, we can decide on that now. Sound good?"

"Sure," Matthew laughed. This was strange and…oddly comfortable. Being alone with Gilbert was almost easy. And fun. Matthew found that his smile almost didn't want to disappear. At least, not yet. Gilbert nodded and let his socked feet slide across the tiled floor until he reached the fridge.

"So…" Gilbert mused, glancing back at Matthew. "Tell me a little about yourself, at least. All I really know is that you love dogs."

"Oh, uh, well, I'm not that interesting, really," Matthew shrugged. "My brother, Alfred, is way more interesting."

"Well, I wouldn't be so quick to judge yourself," Gilbert smirked and turned back to the fridge, scanning over it. "I know Feli's always down for pasta, if we want that. It looks like we have some sausages to mix into the sauce."

"Will Lovino be okay with that?" Matthew laughed and Gilbert laughed with him. Yeah, this was easy. This was nice.

"He can eat around it, you okay with it though?" Gilbert asked, looking right at Matthew as he asked. Matthew flushed, looking down to make sure he didn't accidentally mess up and look at the wrong eye.

"Yeah, pasta's fine," Matthew nodded.

"Great," Gilbert nodded, closing the fridge for now and moving to open a door that turned out to be a walk-in pantry. Matthew blinked. "Your brother anything like you? I know everyone's surprised to see the difference between me and Lud."

"Uh, not really," Matthew shrugged. "He's pretty loud, seems to be getting himself into a lot of trouble lately, he's refusing to give this Russian guy a chance…" Gilbert laughed from inside the pantry. "He can be sweet when he wants to be."

"Oh, yeah, Ludwig can be, too," Gilbert shrugged as he came out with a box of pasta in his hand. "How bad do you think they'd kill me if I used this? They usually make their own from scratch but I don't have that patience."

Matthew smiled. He found that he didn't even mind that it wasn't just him and Gilbert anymore. The others seemed nice enough and having time with Gilbert was always nice. And time around Gilbert while he's with family was always nice to see.

"How good are you at dodging punches?" Matthew asked.

"From Lovino?" Gilbert smirked. "I've got plenty of practice." He set to rummaging through the pantries before pulling out a pot that seemed fairly well used. So they did cook in here… "Ludwig's a big softie when you get to know him. I mean, you've seen him around the dogs, right? He may look like a massive giant but he's nothing more than a big pile of goo."

Matthew smiled faintly, watching as Gilbert filled up the pot. The way he talked about his brother was so…fond, nice, caring. Like he honestly wished the best for him. It was sweet.

"Do you want me to help with anything?" Matthew asked. "I hate sitting around and doing nothing."

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded with a bright smile. "Go ahead and sneak out some of the jarred pasta sauce from the pantry. If we're lucky, they won't see." Matthew laughed and followed the instructions. "So this brother. He look anything like you? I'd love to see what kind of gorgeous family you come from."

Matthew nearly dropped the jar he'd just grabbed, but he still let out an undignified squeak at the compliment. Matthew's smile refused to go away, in fact it got bigger. Thank God Gilbert couldn't see him like this.

"I've been told we look pretty similar," Matthew smiled faintly. He'd never really thought he was that good looking…but getting a compliment like that from someone like Gilbert? Well, he just might ride his elation all day. "Really, I don't think I look that good," Matthew admitted as he walked back to where Gilbert was, holding the jar out, hoping to find further instruction. Gilbert had started the stove under the pot and looked at him with a bright smile.

"Please, you'd have to be a freaking Null to not see how gorgeous you are," Gilbert laughed and Matthew froze, feeling his stomach turn into a rock. Gilbert had just used a slur, and worse than that, he used a slur that people used for people like Alfred. Null was one of the worst used words for someone like Alfred, someone with no eyes.

Matthew set down the jar before it could slip from his fingers. It was just a few seconds, but Matthew looked at Gilbert, hoping to find some indication that Matthew really hadn't just heard what he did. But Gilbert was just laughing. Like people like Alfred were just a joke he could use at parties.

Matthew wasn't aware of his own body until his fist connected with Gilbert's face. After the harsh sound of skin on skin, they both stood in silence, staring at each other, both in complete shock. Before Gilbert could say anything to try to save grace, Matthew turned on his heel.

"Jackass," Matthew muttered as he all but ran out of the kitchen. He nearly tripped over the dogs as he ran for the front doors. He didn't care that Feliciano had called out to him or that he left the door open, he just started running.


	7. Bright-Eyed and Bushy Tailed...sorta...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written by hetalia-is-definitely-a-textbook (or hetalia_textbook), but I call her Textbook for short. Enjoy and review!

_Chapter 7: Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed...sorta..._

 

Alfred walked toward where he remembered the baskets had last been. He was met with empty space and a greeter asking him if everything was alright. "I'm just…looking for a basket."

"Oh, we remodeled recently," the greeter replied unhelpfully, "The carts and baskets are over there now." Alfred knew they were pointing; he could tell by the shift in their voice and the almost quiet noise of fabric rubbing together in movement. Alfred frowned deeply. Of course they hadn't noticed. Just like always.

"I can't see," Alfred groaned out and missed the quick gasp from the greeter.

"I'm so sorry," they said quickly; searching for a way to soften the blow, reach a mutual understanding of the mistake, and fix their interaction before this meeting was taken to the manager and cost them a job.

"It's fine," Alfred reconciled, pushing the irritation down. After his last interaction with Ivan, it felt better just to ignore the anger gnawing at the back of his mind. "Could you lead me to where they are, so I can remember for next time?"

"Of course, sir."

Alfred felt his arm being grabbed and, although he would have much rather he not be babied like this in public, kept himself from repeating the scene he had made with Ivan. He didn't need to be the subject of any more public scrutiny.

Once he left the entrance, Alfred hoped dearly nothing else had been moved too drastically from their original positions. His fingers lightly ran over the outer sides of shelves and signs plastered on them with Braille for to be convenient for the blind. Alfred sighed at the discovery that the produce aisle had been moved and replaced with pre-cooked meals. He'd have to map the entire store out again.

He walked aimlessly for a while, until he found the aisles he'd been looking for and where other aisles had been moved to. Others were roaming the supermarket along with him, but none stepped in his way. Most shoppers maneuvered around him, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Alfred couldn't tell, but he knew from what his brother said that when a blind man walked past, people either stare or look anywhere but in his direction. It was heartbreaking and frustrating.

It wasn't fair that he was treated with contempt over something he couldn't even control. It wasn't his fault he was blind. He hadn't chosen his name. If Alfred could have picked his name, he would have made sure he would have enough 'i's to see. The world was beautiful and he was absolutely discontent with the knowledge he may never get to see it. Alfred had been told countless times about the sights and colors around him, but hearing about it wasn't the same as actually seeing it. Alfred could hardly count the number of times people had made poor attempts to comfort him by saying that there wasn't much to see anyway.

So many with sight had become so used to being able to see their loved ones, the sky, the stars, everything. They were taking it for granted. Maybe there wasn't much for them to see anymore, because they assume they've seen it all; that sight is just another part of their lives that dull and trite, but Alfred knew better. If a single person had been aware of how hard he prayed, he bet he could send a sinner to church.

He snorted chidingly. Feh, as if anyone would listen to _him_.

As Alfred strolled alone in a supermarket full of people, his thoughts wandered to the ashen blond.

Ivan seemed like a jerk, there was no denying that, but as Alfred thought back to their previous interaction, Ivan seemed less patronizing and more endearing. He hadn't truly meant to upset him, Alfred thought. Ivan was just the byproduct of a society that praised sight and glorified eyes. Alfred's hand raised and his fingers lightly touched his eyelids, his soft pads etching out the slight creases and folds. He wondered what it must be like to see with three eyes, or two, or one. He heard it was different somehow, but Alfred wouldn't know. Ivan hadn't meant him any harm. In fact, he seemed to genuinely care about him.

"He has a pretty strange way of showing it," Alfred remarked aloud to himself.

The mother of two beside him, ushered her kids away before they could even open their mouths. Alfred didn't notice.

Alfred sighed as he realized he shouldn't have treated Ivan so terribly. He had been angry and irrational. The least he could do is apologize. However, some self-doubting part of himself told Alfred that Ivan wouldn't want to see him again, let alone accept any apology he offered.

' _God, why am I such an asshole?_ ' His feet squeaked against the tile, stomping around the corner, his frayed sweater slightly brushing the corner as he did so. He had never felt a tantrum such as this one come upon him, but he didn't want to create another scene where he'd have to pick up the pieces. His bruised knuckles throbbed in agreement.

He shouldn't have yelled, that was obvious. Getting worked up, just because the guy was trying to be nice. Maybe he didn't realize Alfred found it irritating. Maybe it was just his way of showing he... cared? Alfred scoffed. Could that Ivan-guy even care about someone like him. It almost seemed like it.

"I shouldn't have said any of that," Alfred muttered to himself, before remembering it was strange to talk to yourself in a crowded place. He kept his next thoughts to himself. ' _Understatement of the year, Jones. You should have told the guy you were fine and went on with your life._ ' At least then, he wouldn't be feeling so terrible.

Had Ivan looked sad? Had he watched Alfred leave in disappointment and regret? Had Alfred actually lost his chances to meet a great guy who'd treat him like a person and love…? Alfred stopped in his tracks and blinked. His mind was starting to go to strange places. There was no way Ivan would go for him, nor did he even want to think about dating the guy.

...Right?

This guilt thing was really getting to him.

He should apologize though, just to get these thoughts to leave him alone. There's no reason both of them should feel bad when a simple apology could relieve them both of this needless tension.

Alfred reached the aisle he had been searching for and felt for the Braille that would direct him toward the food he wanted to buy. He inched his arm towards the hamburger buns first, his fingers slightly twitching, hesitant and sore. There was a slight pause and in that moment, he made up his mind. He would contact Ivan again. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too upset to hear from him. A denied apology could leave you feeling worse, but it was better than feeling like something could have happened had he not been such a jerk.

Alfred grabbed what he had come for and strided toward check out, determined to set things right.


	8. What Should Eye Do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by bubblegum-beach (MapleTreeway), her debut. I never really noticed how short this chapter was-I have a feeling that we'll have a pattern on our hands-but it's fine either way. Read, enjoy, and review!

_Chapter 8: What Should Eye Do?_

 

The air felt suffocating as Matthew stormed out of the Beilschmidt's house. Anger, red hot and like a wildfire, coursed through his veins, turned his thoughts into a jumbled mess. All he wanted to do was scream. Long and loud until his throat ran dry. Shout obscenities and arguments about the blind, ignorant prejudice society had against people like Alfred. It wasn't fair! The whole hierarchy based around eyes...no one _asked_ them what name they wanted. It was all based on random selection. No one _wanted_ to be blind. That was just the way the cookie crumbled. And then to institutionally treat the blind ones as filthy and the three-eyed ones like kings…

Well that was just uncalled for.

The anger Matthew felt had always been underlying. The occasional slur against Alfred irked him, but never sent him into a fit. Never made him lose his cool. Never made him _punch_ someone. The red he saw now, well, that was new. As was the adrenaline and the speed at which he walked to his car.

Something like betrayal kicked in as soon as he was safe within his vehicle. All week he had been looking forward to this date with Gilbert. And now the guy wasn't half the man he thought he was. _How could someone drop such a slur so nonchalantly?_ Matthew thought wildly. _How? And then to go on to say such cruel things..._

Frustrated, he punched the steering wheel.

_Bad idea, bad idea...!_

Matthew cradled his fist in his other hand and suppressed a yell. If there was one thing people never mentioned, it was that punching someone in the face _hurt_. And if the pain wasn't registered at the time of said punch, then it would catch up eventually. "Never again," he swore to himself as he started the engine.

The tires squealed against the pavement as he drove off. He didn't look back once.

Oh he really shouldn't have hit him. He really, really shouldn't have. Two days ago it had seemed like a good idea. The best idea, honestly. But now…now it didn't. Gilbert hadn't texted him or called. Which Matthew couldn't blame him because, really, it should be _him_ calling to apologize for punching him.

_But why should I apologize?_ Matthew thought to himself as he made himself a sandwich. _He got what he deserved._

_Did he, though?_ a voice challenged. _He didn't know you have a blind brother._

_Like it matters. What he said was inexcusable._

The phone rang just then and Matthew, against his better judgement, practically ran toward it. His heart was in his throat, his nerves bounced off the walls. Maybe it was Gilbert calling him to apologize after all? Admit that he was wrong for saying such foul things? And if he was genuinely apologetic then Matthew would say sorry for punching him and then they could forget about the incident and move on with their lives and, hopefully, start over and try again. The veterinarian's heart raced just thinking about it.

But when he saw the caller ID it wasn't Gilbert. No, in fact it was the one person he didn't have the heart to talk to just yet. Heart falling, Matthew let the cell phone ring through. "You've reached the voicemail of Matthew Williams," said the answering machine. "I'm sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message and I'll call back as soon as I can. Have a good day."

_Beep!_

"Yo Mattie, it's been ages! Where you at bro? This is, like, the hundredth message I left. It's totally not cool of you to ignore me like this. What'd I do? Mattie tell meeeee."

_Beep!_

The sound of his brother's voice seemed to clear whatever fog was in Matthew's mind. "No," he told himself, "it's good you punched Gilbert. Family is more important than some relationship."

Four days. Four days since the disastrous date and Matthew _still_ wasn't sure if he had made the right decision. It kept him up all night. All he could see was the shock in Gilbert's face and the feel of bone against bone. He hadn't broken anything, had he? If he had he wasn't sure he would be able to live with himself. But there was no way to check - he was positive that they weren't on speaking terms anymore.

It wasn't like Gilbert was a bad guy. He wasn't. He cared about animals and his family and he (had) cared about Matt. And the whole thing of talking shit about blind people was institutionalized, so it wasn't _all_ his fault. He was raised with being at the top of the hierarchy. And maybe, if given a second chance, Matthew could help him unlearn some hurtful phrases.

With that thought, the blond got out his cell phone, opened up his text message conversation with the albino, and typed out, "I'm so sorry."

But he didn't hit 'send' right away, not quite sure how it would be received.

It took another three days before he finally got up the courage to hit 'send'. And by then he felt worse than before. Shameful, almost. But it was what it was and he tried to busy himself out of the knot that formed in his stomach. And, well, if nothing he did worked, then he didn't admit it to himself.


	9. Eye Spy With My Little Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raise your white flags in surrender!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello shipping children, it's update time! Chapter nine brought to you by Textbook! Enjoy, read, and review!

Chapter 9: Eye Spy With My Little Eye

 

Ivan sat at home, his thumb running over the edges of his cell phone. His fingers itched to type in Alfred's number and give the younger man a call, but the guilt kept him from doing so. He should apologize, he knew that much, but Alfred wouldn't want to hear from him. The way they had left things were horrendous. Alfred's view of him couldn't be good and it wasn't going to improve if he kept ruining every interaction they'd had together.

"I should call him." Ivan muttered to himself and hovered his thumb over the keypad. He couldn't do it. He couldn't call him.

"He'll call if he wants to talk." Ivan decided and set his phone down again.

Eventually, Ivan got up and searched his bookcase for a book to read. He had read most of them already, but his sister had brought his a fairly sappy love story from her house to give him some variety. He a a bit ashamed to admit he enjoyed the clichéd writing style and the flat characters. Everything was so simple and turned out so well for them. It was almost mind numbing, yet strangely intriguing at the same time. Maybe that's why people write such simple stories: to give people a simple world to escape to. Although, that shouldn't excuse the poor writing, he thought, yet he continued to read.

Unfortunately, the book didn't remain much of a distraction as he realized Alfred couldn't see the words on the page, even if he wanted to. Sure, there was Braille and he could most certainly read, but he couldn't see the meticulously designed book covers or see the colors the books described. His mind wandered farther and Ivan felt guiltier. He understood why Alfred had been so angry with him. Ivan had everything he could have wanted. It wasn't fair for Alfred to be placed into a poorer neighborhood simply because he couldn't see.

Ivan had never meant to upset him. He had never intended to make Alfred believe he thought of him any less because he was blind. It hurt knowing that he had caused Alfred pain.

Ivan reached for his phone again.

' _I'll just… give him a call_.' Ivan thought, ' _If he doesn't pick up I'll leave him a message_.'

Ivan dialed Alfred's number and held the phone to his ear. He had found Alfred's number in the phonebook. It's a bit surprising how many people were still in the oversized paperweight of a book and it still came in handy some days. Ivan had used the phonebook many times in the past to find friends' home phone numbers when they forgot to give him one, so he simply assumed Alfred would think to do the same. A moment after he dialed the number, however, Ivan wondered if Alfred would find the intrusion creepy. He certainly didn't want to come off that way again and nearly ended the call, but before he could, Ivan was sent straight to voicemail.

At his own home, Alfred dialed Ivan's number. It hadn't been hard to find, since Matthew had helped him look for the name online. The guy had only one social media account, but he didn't seem to use it much. In fact, he didn't seem like the kind of guy to do much online to begin with. Matthew found Ivan's phone number through one of the few posts that existed and they were all addressed to family rather than any sort of online community. "Seems like a bit of an introverted guy."

"Maybe online," Alfred said as he punched the number into the phone, "but in public he'll talk to anyone who crosses his path."

"Based on his posts it sounds like he wants friends," Matthew said more to himself than Alfred, since his brother seem preoccupied with calling the man. That didn't stop Alfred from responding.

"I guess… He could do that in a totally different way though… Huh," Alfred pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned.

"What it is?" Matthew asked.

"I was sent straight to voicemail. You know, like when the phone line's already busy,"

"Oh, that's too bad." Matthew sighed. He really would have hoped Alfred's experience with apologizing would go better than his. He hadn't really told Alfred he hadn't apologized truly yet, or told him why he had punched Gilbert, but Matthew was still waiting for a response and it was fraying his nerves.

Alfred tried calling Ivan again, but it was sent to voicemail again. This was just getting frustrating. Eventually, he just set the phone down and leaned back into the couch. "Y'know what? Maybe I should just… go search for him."

"How would you do that?" Matthew asked, "You don't even know where he lives."

"Yeah, but he always seems to be able to find me and-," Alfred stopped as the ringing of his phone interrupted him. Matthew checked the number and recognized the number on the screen as the number on his computer. "It's him!" Matthew shouted and quickly handed the phone over to Alfred, "Answer it!"

Alfred answered the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Ah, hello! Is… Alfred there?"

"This is Alfred."

"Oh good! This-This is Ivan," Ivan seemed to be hesitating, "I um… tried to call you, but…"

"It went to voicemail," Alfred smiled slightly. Of course they had both been trying to call each other at the same time. What were the odds?

"Yes! I…wanted to apologize."

"Me too."

"You do?" Ivan asked, "Why?"

"I-" Alfred frowned, "I was wrong. I shouldn't have said those things about you. You're not… _that_ bad."

Ivan chuckled over the phone, "I like you too."

"I never said I liked you." Alfred said jokingly and laughed along with Ivan. Matthew wanted smile before, patting Alfred on the shoulder and letting him know he'd leave him alone to talk. "So, um… What now?" Alfred asked.

"Do you want to hang out later?" Ivan asked hesitantly, "We could meet at the park."

"That sounds… good."

Later that day, Alfred sat at his favorite bench in the park near his neighborhood. He waited patiently for Ivan, listening to his surroundings. A moment later, someone sat down beside him. Alfred sat up a bit taller, almost instantly knowing who it was.

"Hello, Alfred."

Alfred smiled and reached out to shake Ivan's hand. Ivan took it. "Hey, Ivan... Truce?"

"Truce."


	10. In the Eye of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seek the shelter while you still can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's-a me, a-Kasi! No, seriously, I wrote this chapter! This is the chapter that literally snowballs into the rest of the story. You think chapter eight was bad? Wait till you see the rest of the story!
> 
> I think I'm just hyping it up for no reason though. :P
> 
> But enjoy chapter ten and review! We're almost close to our halfway mark.

_Chapter 10: In the Eye of the Storm_

 

Soft humming came from the desktop hard drive as Matthew placed his chin in his palm. His fingers twitched incessantly as he continuously clicked the small mouse roughly with a frown, stopping here and there to correct a few mistakes. Then, it continued. _Click, click, click._ He sighed deeply as he looked off to the side at his phone. He couldn't help but think about Gilbert again.

It had been about a week and a half since Gilbert had come in last with a witty retort or an eye-catching smirk, and it had started to grate on his nerves. He stopped for a second and lifted his hands. Fingernails bitten down to the cuticle, some covered with scabs. He winced as he stared at them, suddenly gaining the urge to hide them away. His violet eyes wandered as he searched for a pair of gloves-anything, something to cover up what he's done to himself.

He knew that he acted too rashly. Gil knew next to nothing about his brother; he didn't mean to insult him, at least that's what he thought. He shook his head and chuckled humorlessly as he resumed his previous routine, the click of the mouse, ticking of the clock, and the occasional sound of animal calls being his only company.

After ten minutes, he began to bounce his foot. A half an hour, he bit his lip. An hour, he dug his hands through his hair. A few of his co-workers looked at him oddly as he fidgeted and squirmed in his seat, his eyes glued to his phone. To distract himself, he drummed out a random rhythm on his bouncing knees, trying to bop his head along to the beat. He knew he must've been acting like Captain Crazy right about now, but this seemed like the only way to resist the temptation of picking up his phone and checking for a reply.

Unknowingly, his eyes grew wider as his hands became blurs against his khaki pants. The rhythmic slaps increased in speed as his breathing became heavier. Matt felt sweat rolling down his forehead as he heard his blood pumping in his ears resonating with the annoying tick of the overhead clock, counting down his moments to insanity. And with a sharp clash of thunder outside, the commotion died down as Matthew froze, his hands suspended in midair.

He had no other choice. Swiping his password quickly, he punched in Gilbert's number and held it up to his ear, awaiting the necessary dial tone. One ring, he began to rummage his brain for words. Two rings, multiple scenarios played out in his head. Three rings, his fingers tittered against the keyboard mindlessly. Four rings, his face scrunched up and his nose began to burn. Five rings, he struggled to hold back something akin to a sob from escaping his throat.

The voicemail playback message was drowned out by the hard pitter-patter of the rain onto the plexiglass windows and the thunder that chimed in a repetitive manner. He bit back a string of curses as he hung up and slammed the phone onto his desk. Covering his face with his hands, he slumped over for a slight second as he grabbed his trench coat and suitcase with haste, nodded to the receptionist his goodbye, and headed out the door in one fell swoop.

It felt pretty ironic to Matthew that just this morning he had thought against bringing an umbrella to work today.

' _An extra load, a waste of space, probably completely unnecessary, it's not even raining right now,_ ' _he reasoned earlier as he gulped down a cup of orange juice in a rush and stared out the window at the previously cloudy sky._

' _I just can't get anything right, can I?_ ' He glowered as he braced the blistering winds and the cold rain with his free arm trying trying to shield himself, weaving expertly through the crowd that surged every which way, frantically crossing streets, hailing cabs, and closing car doors. The relentless rain withheld no mercy as some were tossed around like ragdolls; papers, umbrellas, and hats twisting in the winds while their owners clung onto them as if they were lifelines.

Matthew whipped off his glasses and placed them in a nearby coat pocket. They were basically useless now with droplets of rain hanging from them like crystals on a chandelier. He would have considered it beautiful if he wasn't in danger of being whisked away like many unfortunate souls before him. ' _At last, salvation!_ ' he cried in his mind, as he bumrushed the small bus stop. He would have kissed it if it wasn't covered in bacteria. After dropping himself brusquely unto the miniscule bench to gather his bearings, he held his head between his ankles and kept still, feeling a slight wave of nausea and the weight of his soggy hair on the back of his neck. Every time a drop fell onto his head, a sniff followed not too far behind.

He hugged himself tightly as he openly burst into tears. He was soaked to the socks on his feet, but he didn't care. He felt uncomfortable, vulnerable, and weak, but he didn't care. He would most likely catch a cold, but he _didn't care_. Sobs wracked his body while the rain soldiered on, a never-ending torrent of misery, torment and guilt.

Matthew wished he could take it back. Oh, how he wished he could take it back! He had always been a thinker, not always a doer, but this time, it had really come back to bite him the ass. The saying had always been "action speaks louder than words," but Matthew had never been a loud person. In what he said, in what he did. The one time he manages to act upon his feelings, he ruins what could have been a wonderful friendship, or even something more. That must be one of the traits he shared with Alfred, he supposed.

He gasped for air harshly as his wails caught in his throat. He coughed achily as more tears spilled down his cheeks, mixing with the sweat and rainwater already collecting on his face. His eyes, heavy and puffy, gazed downwards at his hand. The same hand that caused this whole debacle. Pathetic. Matt knew that he'd have to be absolutely pathetic to start blaming his hand for what his mind told him to do. The blond shook unsteadily as he took a deep breath after he noticed his eyesight became blurry from the onslaught of tears, blinking them away erratically.

Exhausted, he leaned his head onto the disgusting post. Add that to his list of apathy. He slackened his posture and closed his eyes, focusing on the rain that never failed to pour on his head like a leaky faucet. Gradually, it began to slow down before coming to a complete stop. He opened his eyes as much as he could and surveyed the area. Yep, still raining. Then why did it-

A shuffle of clothing and the distinct screech of wet sneakers caused him to look up.

Three crimson jewels.

He saw the light in those crimson eyes. Filled with a deeper tone of worry, but a hint of amusement and longing. With one of his hands in his coat pocket, the other holding a umbrella with a proud ivory eagle with its wings spread marring the black surface, Gilbert Beilschmidt stood there, in the pouring rain, for him.

For _him_.

Without thinking, he slammed into him, almost knocking him off balance as they both skidded to a slippery stop. He encircled his waist with relief as Gil smoothed down his hair in comfort, whispering soothing words in German.

The albino's gut wrenched when he heard slight hiccups from the blond below him. Pulling him closer under the umbrella, Gil steadily pulled him up, wrapping Matthew's arms under his torso. The blond kept silent, only with the exception of the hitch in his throat. His mind racing, he turned to him and opened his mouth, but closed it, fearing the chance of another slip up. Instead, with a slight lurch, Matthew leaned on Gilbert for support as they hobbled together towards shelter.


	11. After Rain Comes SunshEYEne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't know what you have until it's already there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by PurplePatchwork! Check out her fanfics, I literally think she is the Queen of RusAme, no joke. After you finish and review, swing on by and take a look! I swear you won't regret it.
> 
> Enjoy a dose of hurt/comfort/fluff!

_Chapter 11: After Rain Comes SunshEYEne_

 

Ivan looked outside, brow creased and lips tightly pursed. It was raining cats and dogs today, the droplets tracing lines down the window glass, little zigzags that crossed and intermingled until they finally landed at the bottom in a messy wet blob. His left hand was firmly gripping the mug of coffee, right hand laying on the table next to it. He had been stirring his coffee just a moment before, but the rain had distracted him.

That was one thing about having three eyes. You noticed things, far faster than others did. With a widened peripheral vision came widened senses, or so he had thought. Having three eyes was a privilege, of course it was, but Ivan had never understood just how big of a privilege. He was used to living in a villa, used to people respecting him, used to being able to see everything and anything, whenever he wanted to. Waking up every day to the sight of oaken floors, a shining staircase, reasonably large garden in which his sister had planted dozens of sunflowers. He had never thought himself to be rich or having been born with advantages.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He wasn't daft, after all. Anyone could make the basic sum that three was better than two or one or worse, none. He knew for a fact that his sisters didn't have it as easy as he had. But he'd never taken the time to get to know someone who had completely lost their eyesight. Until Alfred that is...

It was really raining in buckets now. Ivan never much cared for the rain. Not that he hated it, but he preferred the sun. Ah, the sun. In all her glory and warmth and golden light. The sun stood for better days, for happiness and comfort. He really liked that colour, yellow. Yellow flowers, yellow clothes, yellow hair…

Tanned skin, brilliant teeth, dazed eyes, as if he could see the universe in them and more… Alfred truly had fascinating eyes. Not that Ivan envied him, oh no, that would be very inappropriate. But all the times he had seen Alfred, the almost irresistible urge took hold of him to wave his hand in front of those eyes, come as close as possible, see if they could detect anything at all despite knowing for a fact, they couldn't. Never had, never would. Not unless Alfred were to marry someone who would be able to give him his sight…

Ivan took a sip of coffee. It had gone cold. Such a shame. He didn't look away from the window when a door opened, somewhere inside of the house. "Brother, I am home!" he heard a familiar voice call, lips temporarily twitching up in a smile before dropping once more. A bit of rustling and shuffling could be heard in the adjoining room, Yekaterina putting away her groceries in the fridge and cabinets. After that it was quiet for a short moment, before socked feet padded up to him and strong arms snaked their way around his chest. Ivan closed his eyes (all three of them) when he felt lips tenderly touch his cheek, letting out a soft hum in acknowledgment of her presence.

"What are you so glum about?" the girl asked, leaning her chin on top of his crane to try and catch what he had been looking at. Yekaterina Braginskaya was the proud owner of two fully functioning eyes, making her not as much of a freak show as Ivan (a handsome freak show, but to most a freak show nonetheless), while still blessing her with good vision. She and their younger sister Natalya (one eye, as her last name was Arlovskaya) lived here with their brother, despite them being of different classes. But no one dared tell Ivan he had to kick his sisters out, not after he had provided them with a home in such a friendly and non-threatening-towards-others manner.

"I am not being glum," Ivan responded, voice distant and not entirely focused on the conversation, or lack thereof. Perhaps he wasn't glum, but he was most certainly distracted. Or maybe worried was a better choice of words. Worried about the rain, worried about Alfred, alone in his apartment, perhaps scared of the rain… Who knew what could scare a blind man?

"You are," she chuckled lightheartedly, giving his hair a rustle before moving away from his body. "Come on, you can tell me what is wrong." "Nothing, Katyusha." Technically nicknames were forbidden in their society, but ignorance is bliss right? Nobody needed to tell the government, and there were far worse crimes to commit than providing someone with a simple nickname.

A flash of lightning had him jumping from his chair in less than a second. "Ivan?" his sister asked, but he was far too focused on the storm roaring through the streets. A loud boom, as if someone was hitting his drum a little too hard up there, had Ivan flying to the hallway, Katyusha hot on his heels.

"Brother, wait? What is going on? Why are you so, so…" She looked on in amazement as he shot into his boots, struggled to get on his coat, getting his arms caught in the wrong holes before finally discovering his sleeves. He almost burst through the door without an umbrella, only remembering to bring one when Katyusha held one out to him. "Ivan. Vanya. You are not leaving without telling me where you're going," she chided, more curious than worried at this point. Her eyes were big and teary, but they always looked like that, big pools of water constantly ready to overflow.

"I, I have to go. He might be scared," were the rushed words that left Ivan's mouth, the only explanation he thought himself capable of giving. She didn't speak as he pulled the umbrella from her hands, opened it inside (didn't he know that was bad luck?) and disappeared into the thunderstorm. His big sister stared after him until the rain had completely swallowed his figure, a secretive smile playing around her lips.

Ivan took big strides, occasionally stepping into muddy puddles, coat sweeping violently about his hunched figure. Well, at least he had been right before, thinking it was raining quite hard. More than just quite hard. Another flash of lightning made him pick up the pace.

He didn't really know why he was this concerned about his new friend. Alfred had gotten by all those years without him, he didn't need Ivan to come to him on a stormy day. It was just rain, nothing to be afraid of. At least, that is what Ivan would have thought before meeting Alfred.

He could see now that he had been very narrow-minded about those less fortunate than him. Of course he cared about his sisters, but they were an exception to the rule, on top of the fact that neither of them were blind. But he was ready to make amends. Meeting Alfred had been… a once in a lifetime experience. He couldn't explain why or how. He was Ivan Braginski, born with three eyes. Shouldn't have to concern himself about someone without sight.

That would have been the last thought on his mind when he finally reached Alfred's street. Rushing to the right building, umbrella so dripping wet it had been rendered useless, pants soaked all the way through and torso shivering at the cold… All things he neglected in favour of running up to his door and ringing the bell.

With anxiously thumping heart he waited for an answer. Ringing two, three, four more times, he waited for his call to be heard. Frustration overcame him when no one came to open, no Alfred in a good mood to put him out of his misery. Knowing it was probably locked, he tried the doorknob nonetheless. It gave away without any form of protest, the door swinging open after a light push. He was in.

At first he kept standing in the doorway, not quite sure whether or not he could allow himself in. True, he had forced his presence upon the other before. But now that they were friends, perhaps he should tackle a more lighter approach...?

His doubts instantly vanished when he heard a soft noise coming from somewhere inside of the house. He swallowed and raised his voice. "Alfred…? Are you there? It is me, Ivan." No answer, though the noise didn't cease. "I am coming in now," he said slowly, still hesitating a moment longer before finally stepping inside and closing the door behind him. Another blast of thunder could be heard outside, muffled by the walls but still audible. The soft noise grew in intensity after that.

"Alfred, where are you?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound as sweet as possible despite the growing fear flowing through his veins. All kinds of disastrous scenarios began playing in his head. Alfred accidentally knocking over the fridge and having it fall on top of him. Alfred cutting off his fingers with a knife because he forgot where he kept those. Alfred drinking something poisonous because it didn't smell. He knew it was stupid to rile himself up with those disturbing thoughts, but couldn't keep the images from invading.

"Please, please make it stop…" A soft wailing, coming from somewhere on the second floor. Ivan sprinted up the stairs with three steps at a time, noticing the guards placed by the rails for Alfred's support (which were placed there by his brother, ever concerned about Alfred's well-being). The sniffling was coming from the room on his right, which he found out was the bedroom as soon as he burst inside.

Before he could let his eyes get used to the darkness, a loud shriek alarmed him. "Who are you?! What do you want?!" Ivan looked around, then let his gaze drop down. Blinking the darkness away, he could soon see the contours of Alfred's body, hiding on the floor next to the bed. His expression was panicky and disorientated, body quivering and trembling with suppressed fear. He opened his mouth to yell at Ivan some more, apparently not having heard the man when he came in, when the loudest clash of clouds of that day made itself known.

Ivan didn't need to ask why Alfred was afraid, why Alfred hadn't hear him coming in, all of his overly sensitive senses focused on the all-overpowering bellows. The blond recoiled, Ivan already forgotten once more, body curling in on itself as he slapped his hands over his abused ears. His body rocked back and forth in an attempt to drone out the noises, something Alfred could only imagine to be the Apocalypse making a personal visit to his bedroom. He was absolutely terrified. Ivan had been right in being concerned.

Ivan's heart fluttered weakly inside his chest, pity overflowing, pity he knew Alfred didn't want. He reached the other with only a few steps, spoke in soft tones and touched his back to let him know who he was. Alfred almost hit him at the first sound, stopped in realization at the mention of his name. Then, in an impulsive moment he was sure he would regret after this, he let Ivan take him into his arms, embrace him through his terror, gently rock him. Ivan's hands were clasped over his own, voice a quiet line of nonsensical murmurs. Only one thing he said became clear through that long moment of panic.

"I am here, Alfred. Don't worry, I am here."


	12. Eye Told You So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to say 'I told you so', but...I told you so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter brought to you by rexlover180. Have a little PruCan make up chapter just for you. Purplepatchwork helps me come up with eye puns for chapters, FYI.
> 
> Read and review!

_Chapter 12: Eye Told You So_

 

Admittedly, coffee was a good idea. It gave them a chance to calm down, warm up, and dry off. Neither of them had really said anything, except to the girl at the front counter to order their respective drinks. And now they sat opposite each other at a table. The café wasn't exactly bursting, considering the fact that almost no one wanted to be outside in that storm. Matthew's mind briefly wandered to his brother. He never did well in storms like these, but he was probably going to be okay…Maybe Matthew could call him to check on him tomorrow…For now, he had more pressing matters to deal with.

"So…" Gilbert sighed after he took a fairly long drink. Matthew glanced up, looked at the bruise still left on the man's face, and immediately darted his eyes back to his untouched drink. "We should probably talk, huh?"

"Probably," Matthew breathed out. He felt like his heart was beating out of his chest and he could have sworn that his hands were shaking, but maybe that was from the cold. He'd wanted to talk to Gilbert _so bad_ but now that he was right in front of him, all of the words Matthew had thought about got stuck in his throat. He could barely say anything.

Gilbert sighed as he took another drink. Damn, his coffee was almost gone now. His mind had been racing since that weird moment with Matthew. What had he done wrong, what caused such an abruptly violent action from the usually quiet and shy veterinarian, when was he going to see him again. His bruise was finally starting to fade, but it had been sore for days afterwards and thinking about Matthew only made it worse. Obviously Matthew as a little worse for wear about the subject, considering how quiet he was.

"I, uh, I got your text," Gilbert offered and winced at the same time as Matthew.

"And my call?" Matthew asked, testing the waters. There was a chance that Gilbert maybe hadn't seen it, maybe wasn't really avoiding him. Well…if Gilbert was really avoiding him, he wouldn't have helped him out in the rain.

"Your call?" Gilbert blinked and pulled out his phone so fast he nearly dropped it on the ground. "God, yeah, I guess I didn't feel it vibrate. I was at…uh…work."

"Would you have called me back?" Matthew asked quietly and Gilbert sighed. Well, that wasn't a good sign.

"I was gonna reply to your text, I swear," Gilbert blurted out. Matthew glanced at the baristas cleaning the counter. There was no doubt that this was almost like some sort of drama for them to watch with curiosity. "I just…couldn't think of the words to say, you know? And I typed out so many different responses and I just…deleted them all. I really have been trying to think of something to say to you."

Matthew worried his lip. So Gilbert was just as awkward about this whole thing as he was, then? Well, that was reassuring, though Matthew honestly couldn't conjure up the image of Gilbert hesitating over his phone like Matthew did.

"Did I…" Gilbert started again and paused, drinking all that was left from his cup. "Did I offend you or something? I just…I can't really find an explanation for what happened and I just-"

"Of course you didn't notice," Matthew hissed under his breath. He finally drank from his drink, trying to swallow the small bout of anger that rose in his chest. He had to be calm, he couldn't mess up again. He liked Gilbert, a lot. And maybe, if he hadn't noticed his mistake, then he could get better. There was always hope.

"Then how about explaining what I did," Gilbert tried.

"Null," Matthew whispered, staring into his drink that he'd yet to set down. He didn't want to look at Gilbert. He had to control his emotions in order to convey the message properly. "I-I'm sure you don't even know what it feels like to be blind, but it's not easy and it's not something to joke about and…" He chanced a look up at Gilbert, who stared at him with wide eyes. "You just don't get it because life has been so easy for you with three eyes and…I barely get it. But my brother isn't something to make fun of, even in just a passing comment. You don't know just how offensive something like that can be. You were trying to be flattering but he really can't see anything that's beautiful or good and I feel so guilty about it all the time and hearing people just make fun of them or think it's nothing they need to worry about really pisses me off and, I mean, he doesn't need to be babied and I know that but I just want to help him so bad and-"

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down," Gilbert smiled softly and Matthew blushed. He hadn't realized he'd been going on a rant… Matthew immediately drank more of his coffee to try and calm his nerves that had most certainly not disappeared. "I didn't know you had a blind brother. If I had known, I wouldn't have-"

"That's part of the problem," Matthew sighed, looking right at Gilbert. "If you had known, you wouldn't have said anything offensive to my face. But you didn't know, which meant it was perfectly okay to say something like that? It's not okay, it's never okay to just say a slur like that and take it as a joke."

"I'm sorry," Gilbert said, really wishing he had more coffee.

"I'm not the one you should apologize to," Matthew sighed. "But, um, I really am sorry about punching you. That wasn't really called for, was it?"

"No, no, don't worry about it, I deserved it," Gilbert leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "That was a jackass move. And I really should've known better."

"I mean, you don't need to really beat yourself up about it," Matthew offered. He hated making people feel guilty. Though, a good portion of his week was spent finding ways to make Gilbert feel like shit for using a slur. Seeing his guilt-ridden face after knowing what he had done made him want to take all of those moments back.

"No, no, I really should've known better," Gilbert shook his head. "Hey, mind if I get some more coffee really quick? I've got something to tell you and maybe that'll make it go by easier."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Matthew nodded. Gilbert smiled thankfully before going back over to the counter to get another coffee. Matthew swirled the liquid remaining in his own cup. Gilbert had something to tell him? He seemed so serious…

Matthew waited patiently until Gilbert sat back down in front of him and took a drink from his coffee, letting out a long breath as he finished.

"So, first," Gilbert said, looking at Matthew seriously with all three eyes, "if you're allowed to give me shit about not thinking about people's emotions, then I'm allowed to give you a little, too. People with three eyes don't always get let off easy. My life hasn't been easy for me."

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," Matthew muttered and Gilbert shook his head, holding his hand up.

"It's fine, you really didn't know," Gilbert said. "Not a lot of people do. It's like this general consensus that three-eyed people live the high life and don't even get me started on four. But it's the same with people with no eyes, people don't look past the eyes. It's like they can only look at your eyes or some bullshit like that. I mean, three eyes isn't exactly common, is it? So we're weird and we're freaks, basically. And for me, I'm not just a freak, I'm a foreign freak. And I'm an albino. So I'm a three-eyed German devil.

"Elementary school kids can be pretty cruel. You'd be amazed how many tried to poke out my third eye with a stick to see what would happen, if an 'i' would mysteriously disappear from my name or something if I got blinded. And the taunts could get pretty creative. I think my favorite one had to be from this girl that thought I could see through walls and watch her change for PE. But like everyone else with three eyes, I figured out a way to get through it. I'll admit it wasn't really the best way.

"I knew I was better than them, which sounds terrible, Gott. But I was richer, I could see better than they all could, and my mom always said how I was taking the high road and being the better person by not fighting back. I was so freaking awesome, better than all the other kids. Their taunts couldn't touch me. I was well into being an adult before I realized I was the one being immature."

"Gil, I…" Matthew bit his lip, trying to think of something he could possibly say to that. Something he could do to show that he understood. His entire life he'd been taught that people with three eyes were better than him and, yes, he'd been a little jealous, but he was never the kind to bully anyone. Other kids weren't always so nice. Matthew got to see the other end of that with Alfred, who was bullied mercilessly, too. Now Matthew felt horrible for saying that Gilbert always had an easy life. Matthew just always assumed…

"And that's why I should have known better," Gilbert nodded. "So, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." Matthew muttered. "I shouldn't have punched you or said anything like that."

"Don't get me wrong, I don't need to be babied either." Gilbert said clearly. "If anything, all that taunting made me stronger. But it didn't make me any less stupid. I shouldn't have used that word."

"It's alright," Matthew smiled, nodding. It made him feel happy, whole again, knowing that they were able to work this out and get back on good terms. He did really like Gilbert and he didn't want to mess this up. And knowing that Gilbert wasn't a terrible person that used slurs every day was always reassuring.

"So, hey, how about we try this thing again?" Gilbert offered his usual, charming smirk. "You, me, a date. Really alone this time. How about we try going out somewhere?"

"That…would be nice," Matthew smiled, blushing slightly. Getting back to normal would be nice, put all of this behind them. "How about tomorrow? Hopefully it'll be a little drier."

"Yeah, awesome," Gilbert nodded. "Want me to help you home? As much as I like you, I'm not giving up my umbrella."

"Sure." Matthew giggled as they both stood up, going to throw away their disposable cups. "Thanks."

"For what?" Gilbert hummed, getting his still wet umbrella ready.

"For not being a jerk." Matthew smiled.


	13. In the Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people who smile the most may have hidden the remnants of their past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the chapter (and pun) from PurplePatchwork. Read and review!

_Chapter 13: In the Eye of the Beholder_

 

It was already quite late when the two men entered through Ivan's front door. Ivan had insisted Alfred spent the night with him, so he could keep an eye - or three - on his friend in case he panicked once again. Alfred protested at first, but when Ivan went silent to see his reaction he had grown scared like a lost puppy. Sleep-over at Ivan's it was.

Alfred was too tired to go check out this new environment. He simply followed Ivan's lead, guided by the hand plastered firmly on the small of his back. Ivan was very gentle and careful when bringing him upstairs. The storm had subdued, leaving them only a little damp.

"You can sit here… Yes, perfect. Wait here, I will bring you a towel and something warm to drink. You are in the guest room now, okay? Be right back."

Alfred heard footsteps distance themselves from his presence, first the soft sucking of carpet before the clicking of dirty boots on wood. Ivan was gone, and the room was perfectly quiet. Alfred shrugged his jacket off, waiting for his host to return. He tested the mattress, finding he could bounce up and down on it quite a bit. Then he let himself flop back with a soft thwomp, closing his eyes (not that it made any bit the difference).

Alfred had always had difficulty with thunderstorms. Unexpected loud noises, unknown sources, confusing and overwhelming. He could remember when he was just a child, he would hide under the bed, curled up into a little ball until Matthew finally found him. His brother would comfort him, tell him it was going to be okay, that the loud noises would stop sooner rather than later. Matt would place their combined hands over his ears- in fact quite like Ivan had done a bit earlier. Perhaps that was why Ivan's presence had managed to calm him down. Huh.

The room smelled of dust and something flowery, as if it hadn't been used that often but was still maintained. Maybe because Ivan didn't have guests over all that often, Alfred certainly wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. He wished he could see what colours surrounded him, which vibe Ivan's house gave off. Now it just felt huge, but that was probably because he hadn't had the time to get acquainted with the space yet. Not that he was planning on doing that… but just in case, you know the drill.

The bed was soft. A bit cold perhaps, but he was sure his ever-hot body temperature would make quick work of that. This was nice. Cosy even. He could get used to, to…

Alfred hadn't even perceived himself dozing off until he felt a blanket softly being draped over his figure. In his haste to sit up, his forehead all but collided with Ivan's chin- he knew it to be like that from the way Ivan's hand pressed softly against his skin, the soft blow of breath going over the very top of his head. "I thought you had fallen asleep," Ivan mused, a rumbling chuckle leaving his body. He waited for Alfred to sit up fully, disregarding his apology in the process, before pushing a cup of warm chocolate milk into his hands. Usually the drink was reserved for Katyusha, but he knew she wouldn't mind him serving it to their guest. (And now he had an excuse when she noticed her diminished supply of cocoa, as he often stole some for himself.)

"Thanks," Alfred mumbled, the words feeling far warmer on his tongue and cheeks than the beverage. Ivan didn't say anything in return, leaving Alfred to guess at his reaction. Would his smile be gentle, mocking, or not present in the least? Alfred didn't know the other long enough for that. With others it was easier- his brother for example, Alfred always knew exactly which tone meant what underlying emotion. With Ivan it was a process of guessing and getting to know, solving one piece of the puzzle at a time.

"What's it like?" he suddenly asked, when the silence began dragging on a bit too long to his tastes. A bit of shuffling to his right, a dip in the mattress. "What is what like?" his host asked, and Alfred thought he could read genuine curiosity in those sounds. Taking a quick sip of hot chocolate, scalding his tongue in the process, he continued. "What's it like to have… you know, to have three eyes?"

Ivan didn't immediately respond. He moved forward just a little, Alfred leaning back when he could feel his space being invaded, only to have a towel dropped on top of his head. "You make sure you don't get sick, I will tell a story." Alfred nodded, staring blankly into the direction in which he thought Ivan currently was as he quickly wiped the towel over his slightly wet locks. Some more shifting, the other probably getting into a more comfortable position.

"Having three eyes is… Let me begin with what others think of it. You should look at it like a coin, it has both a good side and a bad one. On one hand, those with three eyes are respected. They are something exotic, special, privileged. On the other hand… We are strange to others. Both in a good, curiosity-inducing way, and… And in a bad way as well."

A moment of silence, Ivan swallowing, Alfred quietly continuing to drink his chocolate. "Having three eyes is weird. Like we are aliens to them, as if they think we can read their mind or something along those lines. With respect comes fear and distrust, also because they are jealous perhaps? Jealous because we got lucky… I suppose I can see why. Now at least. Not when I was younger…

I remember… Ah- perhaps you are not interested in this story-" "No, please go on, I wanna know." "...Alright." Alfred's cup was gently pried from his fingers, him not having noticed it had gone empty. Ivan moved around for a short bit after that, as if having to work up courage to continue his story. When he sat back down, he instantly began talking.

"I remember when I was a child, jealousy was far more present than respect. My classmates drew eyes into my books, things only nightmares can make happen. They followed me home after school, throwing things at me, calling me names. But whenever I would look at them, they would look back as if I were a monster, I- I can still see the disgust in their faces… Oh- not all of them were like that of course, but you know how cruel children can be.

I was never safe in between classes. One time, they chased me into the bathroom and tried to cut my eye out. If my, if my sister hadn't noticed my absence... " A soft humming noise. "I suppose I still would have been better off than you, and I do not mean that as an insult." Alfred made some weird sound of understanding, wanting desperately for Ivan to keep talking. The soft tones of his voice were slowly lulling him to sleep, only adrenaline of hearing so much new about his friend keeping him awake.

"I think that is why I began acting the way I do. To defend myself. They only left me alone when they thought I was scary, so fear became my biggest ally. I no longer ran. I began making myself as intimidating as possible, trying to keep them at bay. I took up boxing lessons so I could defend myself. I began surrounding myself with company of my own kind, taking up a mentality that those who weren't like us were simply jealous or lesser human beings, in a way. Pretty petty-minded, right? But it was the only escape I could find from my bullies. Be scarier than that what scares you, I believe the saying is. I gained respect, more people began to fear me, but with that they finally left me alone. And alone I was."

Another pause, shorter than the previous ones. "If only I could forget about the scars…" "What scars?" Alfred immediately interjected. He could feel the bed move ever so slightly, as if Ivan was startled by his presence. So lost in memories he had forgotten he was talking to someone.

"Ah… I did not want to tell you that…" "Well you did anyway, might as well keep going. I can't see, so it's not like I'm gonna judge you by looks." A soft chuckle. "Indeed you aren't… Well then. When I said they tried to cut out my third eye, they did not succeed of course. But they did… take revenge, in some way. Knowing my sister was a witness, that she could point them out if they tried that again, they went for a different part of my body next time they cornered me. And those scars will never disappear."

"Where?" Alfred whispered. He somehow found himself lying on the bed, facing Ivan, who could have been facing him as well. "I know you can't show me them but… Can I maybe… feel them?"

"Why would you want that?" Ivan returned, voice a barely audible ringing. "What is the point?"

"Just to…" Alfred had difficulty finding the right words. "...To show you I care, okay? Because that's what friends do. They care about each other, especially after telling stories about their childhood that are kinda heartbreaking, and if I'm right this is also more or less a secret-y thing."

"That it is…" Ivan muttered. Alfred frowned, moving one hand forward. "So is having three eyes really only bad?" "No. I would be lying if I said that. Again, we are privileged. I realize that now much more than ever. Especially people who also have at least one I in their first name- our sight will never be taken. We can see all, colours and sights and expressions. It is beautiful, really. Both a blessing and a curse."

Alfred's hand kept moving forward until it touched the fabric of Ivan's pullover. "Let me feel," he whined, brow creased to a tired crinkle, like a sleepy child pouting. Ivan let out a final laugh, gave him an unexpected kiss on the forehead, and sat up. "Maybe some other time. You should try to sleep. My room is the final door at the left, down the hallway to your right. Bathroom is first door to the right. Goodnight, Alfred."

Long after Ivan had left him, Alfred was still staring at the wall in front of him, unseeing yet seeing more than he wanted to acknowledge.


	14. Eye See You're Sincere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the AEfaI team: You go, Gil!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, sweet, and to the point. This was bubblegum-beach's (MapleTreeway) chapter. Enjoy, read, and review! She came up with this chapter's pun!

Chapter 14: Eye See You're Sincere

 

"So how did you want to become a vet?"

Matthew hummed and took a sip of wine. "I don't think you want to hear that story just yet."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not an uplifting story about saving my first animal. That's why."

"Please, you've seen my brother's crazies. You've seen one or two of my crazies. I've seen your pretty damn awesome-yet-painful crazy. Give me some more to go on here."

Matthew glanced around the restaurant, as if he were about to divulge Who Done It. He leaned in close, his date leaning in too, and whispered, "When I killed my cat."

Gilbert blinked slowly. "What."

"When I was five, Al and I had a Persian cat named Toto. The only reason why he was named Toto was because Al was a total Wizard and Oz fanatic at the time and we weren't allowed to have a dog. Anyway, when no one was watching I fed Toto one or two chocolate bars. And well I guess you could, um, you could guess the rest." When the albino didn't react, the blond felt himself turn a humiliating shade of red. "L-Listen I'm not - not proud of it. I cried for weeks on end about what I did -"

"So you became a vet so it wouldn't happen again," Gilbert finished for him. He reached for his beer, a smile on his lips and a wink in one of his eyes. "Well, Birdie, that's oddly dark and cute at the same time."

Matthew choked on air. Did he hear him right? Did Gilbert seriously just give him a nickname? On the first date? Blushing furiously, he coughed a few times and drank some water, hoping it would help. "Wh-What did you j-just call me?" he stammered.

Gilbert's eyes tightened in concern. "Birdie...but if you don't like it I can -"

"No, no. It's - fine. It's just - Birdie?"

"Ja. It fits you, in my awesome opinion."

Matthew's face felt on fire. Which in itself should be humiliating, he figured, since he was acting like a silly schoolgirl. Face all red hot and wanting to disappear through the walls and all that. But for some reason it wasn't. Humiliating, that is. Rather it felt...well...

Birdie was a nice nickname. He rolled it around in his head over and over and over again. Birdie, Birdie, Birdie. I could get used to it, he thought happily as he took another sip of his wine.

Their food arrived shortly after that. Steak for Gilbert and salmon for Matthew. It tasted nothing short of delicious, and the veterinarian relished every taste. In between bites the conversation kept going, each of them learning a little more about the other. Matthew learned that Gilbert had once had a teacher whom he cared for (Old Fritz, if he remembered correctly) but was now dead. He also learned that Gilbert valued family very much, despite teasing Ludwig relentlessly. That prompted lots of childhood stories - all of which the albino was more than happy to share.

"And when we got our first dog," he started, mirth in his red eyes, "Ludwig didn't understand that it had to be housebroken. So I, being the awesome brother I was, took it upon myself to train him."

"Where? In your brother's room?" Matthew teased, kicking Gilbert's feet under the table. His heart was racing after that action, and he didn't fully breathe until Gil kicked him back.

White cheeks flushed red. "Actually…"

"No way."

"Ja, it's true."

Matthew raised his eyebrows in alarm, letting out a soundless laugh. "I can't believe you, Gilbert. Doing that to your younger brother, oh maple…"

Suddenly Gilbert's face changed to more serious. "Speaking of younger brothers, I really am sorry about what I said - before - I. It won't happen again. Never again." He rubbed his neck with his hand, looking away in shame.

Matthew drew in a sharp breath. He didn't say anything and his smile dimmed a little.

Gilbert didn't seem to notice. "Look, I would really like to apologize. To him. Alfred."

"I don't thi -"

"Please?" He turned to face him now, red eyes meeting violet in a silent plea.

Matthew felt the air get knocked out of him, a punch to the gut. He studied the other man's face for any trace of bullshit, but found only sincerity. Nervously he picked at his napkin, unsure. He really means it, he thought. But Al...it's a touchy subject. What should I say?

"Okay."

"You mean it?" Gilbert asked.

Despite his gut telling him otherwise, Matthew nodded. The bad feeling melted away as soon as Gilbert smiled widely, though. Nothing bad can come from this, right? Matthew reassured himself. How can it anyway?

 


	15. I Got My Eye on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred doesn't know that denial ain't only a river in Egypt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached our halfway point! Chapter and pun by Purplepatchwork.
> 
> Enjoy, read, and review! Feel free to PM all of us as well.

_Chapter 15: I Got My Eye On You_

 

Alfred woke up to complete and utter silence. Sweet, blissful silence. Groaning happily, he stretched until he felt his joints pop and rolled onto his side to grab another few minutes of sleep. Or, at least he thought he had just rolled onto his side. Until his face had a rather abrupt collision with the carpet. Scrambling to get up, he snorted and whiffed his nose, some dust evoking a small sneeze. Huh. Apparently he'd fallen asleep much closer to the edge of his bed than he thought. What do you know.

With a sleepy yawn the blond sat up, put one hand on the side of the soft mattress, and pushed himself up straight. His stomach gave a needy gurgle, and he patted it absentmindedly. "Yeah yeah, just a sec lil' guy… I'll make you some breakfast right away." And by "make breakfast", of course he meant grab a bowl of cornflakes and drown himself in coffee.

With a skip in his step he bounded towards the door… Only to meet the wall. Rubbing his nose, he frowned. Okay, maybe he'd somehow fallen asleep at the foot of his bed and he was now standing… Turning to his right, he promptly walked the other way, keeping one hand to the wall just in case. Instead of a door however, he found a corner.

"Okay who changed the layout of my room while I was sleeping," he huffed to the empty space surrounding him, whipping his head around as he tried in vain to locate any sounds or signs of where the door really was. Stepping right once more only lead him back to the bed, walking around it proved to be even more confusing…

Alfred's heart was racing by the time he finally did locate the damn thing. Something was very wrong here, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was slumbering at the edge of his consciousness, only just out of reach. With a little more care he ventured down the stairs, confusion only rising when he found the guards to be missing. Carefully feeling his way around, he was forced to come to a simple conclusion. Either somebody had completely redecorated his house in his sleep or… Or he wasn't at home at all.

When he stubbed his toe over an unidentified object and held his foot while a string of curses left him, he finally remembered. Loud noises, panic, a voice. Someone coming to him in times of high need, bringing him through the rain when the thunderstorm had finally subdued a little bit… He was in Ivan's home.

Alfred had only just come to this conclusion when he became aware of a strange sound. Clack clack clack, like something hard hitting the tiles behind him… Whirling around, he only had time to start saying "Is anyone-" before the cool steel blade of a knife forced him to back up against a wall.

"Who are you and what are you doing here," a strangely accented voice hissed. The voice was unlike any he'd ever heard before, female, low and dangerous, yet with an accent he recognized. Family of Ivan's…?

Thoughts cut off as the blade was pressed harder against his bare throat, he rushed to explain himself. "I'm j-just a friend of Ivan's!" he blurted, only for a small moment wondering if he could indeed call them friends, but there were more important matters at hand right now.

"Do not lie to me," the woman growled, and Alfred had never feared another as much as he did this particular specimen. "I know all of Vanya's friends. And I definitely know they are not the kind to stay the night." Alfred knew she was studying his face when he felt warm breath gushing over his cheek. "You are blind," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah I know," he countered dryly, which earned him a shove to the chest. Then suddenly, the knife moved from his neck to his groin, and- "Are you crazy?!"

"I shall give you to the count of three to explain yourself," the woman told him, sounding quite pleased with her own cleverness. "One-"

"Dude, are you serious?!"

"Two…"

"Ivan's family is crazy…" he muttered under his breath, milky eyes growing wide in astonishment. Another mistake, as he could feel her remove the knife as she pulled her arm back and-

"Natalia, wait!"

* * *

Alfred wasn't exactly enjoying his fluffy pancakes - which the other three called blini - but it was better than nothing he supposed. In fact, it tasted quite amazing. If only he couldn't feel those eyes glaring daggers into every single part of his body.

The woman named Natalia was indeed family of Ivan's. His younger sister. His younger sister who could see through one eye. His very, very psychotic younger sister, who rather stabbed people with knives than ask questions. And who quite immediately calmed down once her brother had explained everything to her- although Alfred was certain it was just a facade to keep Ivan happy. If not, his creeper radar was going off for nothing, and the kicks he got under the table were a part of his overactive imagination as well.

"So, Alfred," the other woman said sweetly- Yekaterina, right? "I hope you had a good night's rest?"

"Oh- definitely," Alfred replied, nodding eagerly (only wincing the slightest but when Natalia's pointed boots once more collided with his shin). "And thanks again for letting me stay here."

"No problem," Ivan said warmly, and Alfred could hear from his tone that he truly meant it. Yekaterina giggled delightfully, but from Natalia he only felt a cold aura of doom spreading. He'd definitely need to do something about that later; first impressions could make or break a relationship. It was his first impression of Ivan that had made him lash out at the other, after all. If he really wanted to stay in touch with the guy, he'd need to befriend his sisters as well, he felt.

Before the siblings could start interrogating him about the weather or his experiences in their house or any topic at all really, the blaring noise of his cell filled the awkwardly silent kitchen. "Ooh sorry, gotta take this," Alfred said with an embarrassed smile.

"Of course! Ah, we'll leave you," Yekaterina said brightly, and before he knew it, he heard chairs scraping back and three pairs of feet walking away.

"That's not necessar-" The door fell shut. Oh. Oh well, at least they were friendly enough to give him privacy… Shrugging to himself, he took the call and brought the rectangular object to his ear. "Y'ello?"

"Alfred where the hell are you?!" came the rather pissed-off voice of none other than his dearest brother dear. "I called your house but no one picked up! I called your work, but you're not there either! I called everyone- so tell me where you are before I call the police!"

"Wow, chillax Matt!" Alfred laughed cheekily. "I can take care of myself very well, thank you very much. You don't need to worry about me 24/7." Realizing he did need to give the other at least some explanation, he continued in a softer voice. "But don't worry, I'm just at a friend's house. You how I get when uh… when it's storming… So I crashed at someone's place tonight."

"Who?" Matthew demanded. "I called everyone and they said you weren't…" The silence that followed was highly suspicious. Alfred switched the phone to his other ear, wondering if he hadn't suddenly gone deaf or something.

"Matthew? You still there? Come on bro, you're kinda freaking me out here."

"No way," the other finally breathed through the receiver. "No way. You're at _his_ house, aren't you?"

"Whose house are we talking about?" Alfred mumbled stubbornly. He knew fully well who his brother was referring to, especially when he let out a smug little snort, but that didn't keep him from pretending to not have a single clue. Not even as his cheeks dusting the faintest of pinks.

His cheeks burned a permanent crimson when his brother went off on a long tangent of it's "Ivan isn't it" and "I knew it I knew it I knew it" and even some "So what did you do last night?"s. Alfred loved his brother, he truly did. But right now, the other could burn in hell for all he cared.

"Screw you," he hissed. "I'm just crashing here, we didn't _do_ anything, you ass!" And he definitely didn't want to do anything either. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Nope. "Anyway, I'm going home now so you can stop worrying or whatever. Bye." And with manic cackling coming from the other end of the line, he hung up. Ugh, his brother could be so embarrassing sometimes.

"Are you finished?" came the much more masculine yet still pleasantly high-pitched voice of Ivan.

Alfred turned towards the general direction of the sound and flashed a smile, hoping with all his might his cheeks didn't betray him. "Yeah I'm fine. But I should be heading home now. Thanks for letting me stay, and for the blini. Tell your sister she's an amazing cook."

Some rustling and padding, and Ivan's presence appeared by his side. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

Alfred huffed indignantly. "No thanks, I can find my way home. I know you mean it well, but I don't need others to baby me all the time."

Patiently, Ivan elaborated. "Do you know where my neighbourhood is located?"

Alfred stilled, his eyebrows creasing into a pensive frown. "...No, but-"

"Do you know how far it is from my home to yours?"

"No," Alfred said through clenched teeth, and he was absolutely sure of the smile in Ivan's voice, that shit-eating bastard.

"Do you-"

"Ugh, fine," Alfred said, throwing his hands up in the air. Then, letting them flop down onto his head, he couldn't help but grin. "Just can't stay away from me, can you?"

And for once, Ivan didn't reply at all.


	16. A SurprEYEse? More Like Scrutiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you imagine sweet ol' Matthew reacting like that? We can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written by youmakeme_sikkelsen. Pun by Kasi. Enjoy and review!

_Chapter 16: A SurprEYEse? More Like Scrutiny_

 

Gilbert never got nervous. Well, scratch that, he never got _visibly_ nervous. He wasn't the kind of person to tremble or bite his fingernails or pace, and yet…

"Worst case scenario, he just decides he hates me and doesn't want me to see his brother ever again," Gilbert all but whispered to himself as he continued to pace. Ludwig sat on the couch, watching his brother walk back and forth like a caged animal. None of his mutterings were making much sense, either. Something about a brother, occasionally talking about not looking in the eye, but some other talk about how that didn't actually matter…

"Gilbert," Ludwig said, but Gilbert didn't seem to hear him. He was starting to come up with scenarios about seeing someone after their brother prohibited their meeting. Right now he was talking about caves. "Gilbert." Ludwig tried a little louder and Gilbert stopped, blinking up at him.

"Yeah?" Gilbert asked, his voice trembling just slightly.

"I don't want to pry, but," Ludwig took a deep breath, knowing just what kind of onslaught of information this question would bring, "what is wrong?"

"Wrong?" Gilbert laughed with a wave of his hand. "Psh. Wrong. Nothing's wrong. I'm awesome as always!"

"Gilbert," Ludwig said bluntly and watched his brother's façade fall with the smirk on his face. Gilbert let out a long groan as he walked over to the couch and slumped beside Ludwig.

"How do you do that?" Gilbert grumbled. Ludwig shrugged. He apparently had this innate ability that could get Gilbert to talk about anything. Really, he viewed it as mostly luck, but it got things done. Worked better than anything Ludwig had tried on Feliciano or Lovino…

"What has you so nervous?" Ludwig asked.

"I'm…uh…talking to Matt's brother," Gilbert said, looking at his hands, which were constantly fidgeting with each other.

"And?" Ludwig asked. Certainly that wasn't enough to make Gilbert, the self-proclaimed-most-awesome-person-on-Earth to become this much of a nervous mess.

"And this is a big deal, okay?" Gilbert groaned, throwing his head back. "I totally insulted him in the worst way possible in front of his brother and I figure I should apologize, right, that makes sense, and Matt goes off talking about how his brother is hard to deal with or some shit like that and…" he let out a long breath. "I just wanna make things right, you know? I don't like having this guilt over me. It's like freaking school all over again. This guy deserves to know when people are talking shit behind his back."

"Why are you nervous?" Ludwig asked. Hard to deal with sounded like Gilbert's forte more than anything else.

"He's Matt's brother!" Gilbert shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "Sure, a random stranger, I don't care if they hate me after I apologize, but this matters. This is basically me just going up to him and saying, hey, I totally used a slur against you the other day but I'm sorry. Do you know how stupid that sounds?"

"Yes." Ludwig nodded and Gilbert shot him a glare. "You've done stupider."

"You really know how to pump someone up, don't you?" Gilbert asked bluntly. Ludwig couldn't help but smile slightly.

"Put yourself in his place," Ludwig said. "Some stranger that comes in claiming he's awesome and also in love with your brother-"

"So Feli?" Gilbert interrupted and Ludwig silenced him with a glare. Gilbert put his hands up in surrender.

"How would you react if he told you what you're about to tell this man?" Ludwig asked.

"I'd be happy someone even had the guts to tell me they did something like that," Gilbert muttered. While Ludwig didn't get teased about his eyes nearly as much as Gilbert, he still knew exactly what that pain felt like. "And, I guess…if my brother's got the guts to trust him, then he can't be that bad…"

"Besides," Ludwig said, "if you're as awesome as you say you are, this shouldn't even scare you."

"Yeah." Gilbert smiled, leaning back comfortably in the couch. "How could anyone hate me, anyway?"

* * *

Gilbert whistled happily as he walked into the familiar building. He walked into the heartwarming scene of his boyfriend (was it too soon to start referring to him like that) being slobbered all over by a dog he was trying to pass over to its owner. Gilbert smiled, watching Matthew laughing, trying in vain to push the large dog off of him. The owner seemed positively mortified at their dog's behavior, but Gilbert just laughed as he walked up to them.

"Need a little help?" Gilbert offered. Matthew looked up at him, barely having enough time to meet his gaze before the dog tried to push him completely on the ground.

"Please," Matthew laughed and Gilbert carefully pulled the dog off, receiving a few licks himself. The owner apologized profusely before rushing out of the building.

"You ready to get going?" Gilbert asked as he helped Matthew back onto his feet. Matthew straightened out his clothes before nodding with a smile.

"I just have to get some stuff together," Matthew said as he quickly ducked back to his desk to shuffle some papers around. Gilbert waited patiently. They were going out during what was supposed to be Matthew's lunch break. Gilbert's talk with his brother had helped him a lot. He felt like he could really do this, regardless of Matthew being so hesitant. He was absolutely ready to do this. Sure, he was a little nervous, but nothing he couldn't get through.

"Okay," Matthew chimed as he walked back up to Gilbert. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? I mean, you really don't have to, it's not that big of a deal…"

"No, I've got this," Gilbert smiled. "Now, guide me!" Matthew laughed as Gilbert pushed him out of the building and into the parking lot.

Before long, they were driving along in Gilbert's car, Matthew giving him occasional directions. It was pretty easy to see when they got to a more rundown part of town. Then again, it wasn't as bad as Gilbert had expected. Still, he made sure he locked his car doors before he walked away from it.

"Isn't this a place for people with one eye?" Gilbert asked carefully as they walked towards the building., not wanting to insult more than he already had. It still wasn't exactly pretty, but it was better than most blind people.

"Yeah, our family pitched in to make sure he didn't get stuck somewhere worse," Matthew sighed before stopping in front of a door. "I mean, it's not good and he's the only one here with no eyes, but it's better than where he would be without it." He started knocking fairly loudly on the door. "Alfred! It's me!" He called inside and Gilbert rocked impatiently on his feet. They needed to just…get this over with. But there was no answer, even after Matthew knocked a few more times.

"Come on, he shouldn't still be asleep," Matthew grumbled, pulling out his phone. After a few seconds, Gilbert could hear a phone ringing inside, but no one went to pick it up. Matthew cursed under his breath and tried calling several other people. This time, everyone picked up, but apparently no one had seen his brother. Just how far could this guy go in one night?

"Are you serious, Alfred?" Matthew seethed as he tried another number, tapping his foot angrily. But he did seem a little nervous, his hand was shaking. Smooth as Gilbert was, he took his opportunity and scooped up Matthew's free hand as his own and Matthew raised a brow at him. Gilbert shrugged innocently.

Finally, the person on the other side picked up and Matthew immediately went off.

"Alfred where the hell are you?" he snapped, sounding more pissed off than Gilbert had ever heard him. "I called your house but no one picked up! I called your work, but you're not there either! I called everyone- so tell me where you are before I call the police!"

Matthew was silent as he listened to the other side of the call and Gilbert held back a laugh as he watched Matthew stiffen before relaxing slightly.

"Who?" Matthew demanded. "I called everyone they said you weren't…" Matthew's eyes widened in realization and Gilbert raised a brow. A knowing smirk grew on Matthew's face and Gilbert had to fight to hold back his laugh now. Another expression he hadn't seen on the veterinarian. Shit-eating grins looked quite nice on him. "No way," Matthew breathed. "No way. You're at _his_ house, aren't you?" Gilbert smirked. Well, then, looks like Alfred didn't need any help in _that_ department.

What came out of Matthew's mouth was a string of exactly what Gilbert would say to his own brother if he found out Ludwig had spent the night at Feliciano's place. Before long, they were both a mess of smirking, laughing people randomly standing in front of some guy's door. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon. Gilbert's mind was running over just who this Ivan Matthew had talked about was, but he could wait until he finished his call.

"Wait, Al-" Matthew groaned as he pulled the phone away from his ear. "He hung up on me."

"You can't be serious!" Gilbert cackled. "Mr. Hard-To-Get-Along-With spent the night at some guy's house!"

"It must've been to take shelter from the storm since I couldn't be there for him, but still," Matthew smiled, staring at the phone, "it's nice to know he's getting over what he thought was hatred for the guy."

"And just who is this mystery stranger?" Gilbert asked. "Looks like he won't be back for a while, how about you tell me over some coffee, if we've still got time?"

"He's some guy Alfred ran into a while ago." Matthew shrugged as they started walking back out of the building. "He absolutely hated the guy when he figured out he had three eyes."

"Yeah, because we're all terrible people," Gilbert snickered as Matthew rolled his eyes, elbowing him in the side.

"I have half a mind to say you are," Matthew said pointedly and Gilbert laughed even harder. "You're paying for coffee."

"Hey, wait," Gilbert called after him as Matthew started running for the car. "Not fair!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can you do when you don't know what to do? Ask for help!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest chapter by youmakeme_sikkelsen.

_Chapter 18: Eye Can't Decide_

 

Ivan stared at the pencil lying on his desk in front of his eyes with the intensity with which Narcissus looked at himself in the mirror. It was just a regular number two pencil, an old-fashioned tool used for making side-notes in the corner of his paperwork without having to create a word document solely for the purpose of taking notes. Yet he was almost certain that if he concentrated hard enough, he could make the object levitate. Not that Ivan believed much in such things. But even then, it would be more plausible than him even fully figuring out the living enigma that was Alfred.

It had already been awhile since their "sleep-over". However, while Alfred had physically left his house, that stubborn young man had somehow invaded his waking mind. Ivan just couldn't figure him out. Or perhaps it were his own feelings that left him feeling quite bedazzled.

Ivan could understand Alfred's stubbornness, born from a want to prove himself and to prove those who thought little of him wrong. Ivan also understood that despite his… disability, Alfred remained energetic and bright of personality. He had a brother, as far as Ivan knew no dark secrets, Ivan knew where he lived and had heard about his profession… So why then? Why did it still feel like he was somehow missing a piece of the puzzle, like there was more to Alfred than meets the eye.

Ivan's brow contorted, and he gripped the edge of his desk as he brought his face closer to the offending pencil. It was like it was laughing at him, mocking him for being unable to make head or tails of this mystery… Slowly narrowing his eyes, he was about ready to lash out and break the small cylinder in half. That would teach it!

"S-sir?"

Ivan looked up at the mention of his title at work, frowning at whoever dared disturb him. It happened to be Toris, one of the three men who worked under him at his office. He wasn't exactly the boss in here (here being the administrative department of the local museum), but he was the boss of Toris**, Raivis and Eduard. And for some reason, all three of them were looking at him as if they had seen a ghost.

With a tired sigh, he grabbed the pencil between two fingers and put it away in one of his drawers. "What is it, Toris? Can't you see I am terribly busy?" _Lies, foul lies._

"Uh…" Toris looked a little bit skeptic, but didn't comment. Shaking his head, he steeled his resolve to spit out whatever it was he had on his mind. Ivan leant back in his chair with quirked eyebrows and folded hands, interest piqued.

"We- Raivis, Eduard and me, couldn't help but notice that you seemed rather… distressed. Sir." He gulped when Ivan's eyebrows were lowered, afraid he had somehow offended the three-eyed man.

However, Ivan wasn't offended. In fact, he was quite shocked. Eduard was the only man who worked here that didn't have his sight; something the past Ivan wouldn't have let happen if it weren't for his boss being so insistent on hiring this man. After all, even though Eduard couldn't see, he was remarkably good with computers. As a child he had already managed to create programs that could be heard instead of read, and his computer was the only one that had a braille keyboard. All handmade.

Yet how was it that a blind man could feel that Ivan seemed out of it? Was his sour mood so noticeable? Taking a quick decision, his entire demeanour changed as he sent Toris a reassuring smile. The man shuddered in dread.

"Perhaps I could use a little break. Thank you, Toris. You and Raivis can carry on. Eduard, I would like to speak with you for a moment before I leave."

Eduard perked up, but not in a good way. Reluctantly, he lifted himself from his chair and followed after his boss, keeping his left hand against the wall so he wouldn't bump into anything. Ivan walked them to a hallway little ways from the office, only other person they might possibly encounter being the janitor. There, he stood still, Eduard instantly following suit once the sound of footsteps fell away. The man was nervously fidgeting, anticipating something dreadful to come from his boss. Yet he stared at Ivan head-on, with a boldness only people of his kind could have. If Eduard knew what he looked like, the creepy smiles that sometimes crept onto his face or just his mere height, he might have been trembling in his boots.

"I want to talk to you about something. Something only you can understand." Ivan folded and unfolded his hands, watching how his careful phrasing piqued the other's interest. His nervousness made place for curiosity- not as bad as Raivis' would have been, who sometimes chose the worst moments to speak his mind, but definitely noticeable.

"You are blind."

Eduard's face fell, annoyed by Ivan stating the obvious. "I noticed," he said. Eduard had always been a bold man, the only of the three who dared use sarcasm while he was around. Ivan now wondered if perhaps he had been a little too harsh in his teasing. Because that was all it was- teasing. Giving them a push in the right direction, maybe a tad forceful, but his methods always worked, didn't they?

Well, they hadn't worked on Alfred. With Alfred, he actually had to try changing his behaviour. Just taking what he wanted wouldn't work on that headstrong young man. Which was why he found himself at an impasse.

"Very good, it would be weird had you not," Ivan joked, and had Eduard seen the way he drew his lips back, he instantly would have toned it down a few levels. "But I wanted to talk to you about… that blindness. Or not in general… It is one specific person. Who happens to be blind.

"Mister Braginski…?"

Eduard was a smart man. Otherwise he couldn't have been hired here. Ivan could see the gears working in his head, noticed a slight brightened of his expression to show that he had a slight idea of what Ivan was getting at. Well, no point circling around the topic then.

"How do I become friends with a blind man?" Ivan bluntly asked, taking a step forward so that he was invading his subordinate's personal bubble. "What would annoy him? How careful do I have to be? How can I help him when he gets annoyed when I try to? Should I ask about his past, or would that offend him? Would it offend him either way if I asked too much about his… condition? Would he hate it if I called it a condition at all? And why do I feel so protective of him at all ? Would he-"

"Sir!"

Ivan hackled to a halt when he saw the almost panicky look on the other's face. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he leant back, giving Eduard some breathing space.

"My apologies. I should not have come to you. I will take my leave now."

However, before he could make his words the truth, Eduard surprised him by putting a hand on his shoulder. It was a shaky gesture, but a gesture nonetheless.

"Mister Braginski… Ivan." (Oh, so bold.) "It's not because we are blind that we have a hive mind. If you really want to know how to behave around… around this man, the best you can do is try to know the real him. Ask him. Everyone has their personal preferences, and I can't read the mind of someone I have never met."

Eduard gulped when no response came, and quickly retracted his hand. Had he put his job at risk…? But no- finally he heard the sigh he had been waiting for.

"I shall… Think about it. Now, get back to work. And tell Raivis to stop playing games on his computer, as he is probably doing now that my back is turned.

"Yes sir," Eduard said quietly, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard Ivan get into the elevator.

That night, Ivan had trouble sleeping. Thoughts kept spinning through his head, inevitably keeping him up. Why this sudden interest in the blind? More specifically, in Alfred? Had the young man truly enchanted him that badly?

He didn't even know what it was. He and Alfred hadn't been acquainted for that long, hadn't had deep conversations about Kant or Nietzsche… Although they had talked, that much was true. Still, it was far from enough to explain his interest.

The thoughts were far too jumbled and twisted together. Even for a man with an extra eye, he simply didn't have enough insight to grasp the solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Toris' name has four I's in it--he is included in the highest rung on the social ladder. It's just that the four-eyed are much more secluded, working in the government and such. The richest, they live on the outskirts of town. Toris is too humble for that so he works here. He's still a recluse and can't handle the scrutiny.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by youmakeme_sikkelsen. Read, enjoy, and review!

_Chapter 18: Redemption DenEYEd_

 

Gilbert whistled as he strolled down the street. He was bored and in a relatively good mood. Which only meant there was one thing to do (since Matthew was busy at work). Time to go visit an old friend. Roderich was always fun to mess with, especially on a beautiful day like this. Knowing him, he'd just be sitting at his piano all day anyway. Gilbert would be doing him a favor.

Gilbert looked down at his phone, wondering if he should try texting Roderich in advanced warning. Last time he broke into Roderich's house, he wasn't exactly treated kindly. Then again, texting him would ruin the surprise and all the fun in it. Before he could even put away his phone, however, someone roughly slammed into his shoulder and he nearly dropped the thing on the ground.

"How about watching where you're going?!" Gilbert snapped, glancing back at the person.

"You know, I would love to," the person said, annoyance clear in his voice. Gilbert had to actually pause a moment when he looked over the man in front of him. He looked…remarkably like Matthew. Like, if Gilbert had only glanced at him, he would have thought this was his boyfriend. But there were subtle differences now that Gilbert was looking closer. Shorter hair, a bit taller, but not by much, and he had an unfocused look in his eyes that made it clear that he was blind. Was this Alfred? "But I really can't, so thanks for that, jackass."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait," Gilbert said, gripping onto Alfred's wrist as he tried to walk away. "Are you really Alfred?"

Alfred paused, looking in his direction suspiciously, but he didn't try to wrestle his hand away yet. "Maybe. Who are you?"

"Uh." Gilbert paused for a moment. Did Matthew talk about him much? Probably. Maybe. He talked about Alfred enough around Gilbert so naturally the opposite would make sense. But did Matthew talk about when Gilbert messed up? "I'm Gilbert. Matthew's…boyfriend."

" _You're_ Gilbert?" Alfred asked. "Wow, never would have thought Matt would go for someone…like you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Gilbert asked with a small pout.

"You just told a blind guy to watch where he's going," Alfred said bluntly and Gilbert finally let go of him.

"Okay, well, I didn't know," Gilbert said. Well, Alfred wasn't extremely mad at him, which meant he probably didn't know what Gilbert said. Still…he felt like he should apologize. He knew there were plenty of people in this world that had said terrible things behind his back and even if he wasn't the one that heard it, he would still like to hear an apology. It would be awkward, but, hell, he was great at conquering awkward situations, wasn't he? "Hey, you busy? Wanna get a coffee or something?"

"Depends," Alfred said. "You buying?"

"Depends if you're gonna be an expensive date," Gilbert said simply. Alfred snorted, but he didn't make any move to shut down Gilbert's offer.

"No offense, but you're not my type," Alfred said simply.

"Yeah, I've heard you have a thing for strangers who let you sleep in their house," Gilbert said, starting to walk and hoping Alfred would follow his voice. He wasn't exactly experienced in being friends with blind people, so he hoped he was doing things right. He knew he shouldn't baby him, hold his hand everywhere, but still…this was Matthew's brother. He didn't want to mess anything up.

"And you have a thing for someone who neuters dogs," Alfred offered. "Wait, I don't have a _thing_ for that guy. Did Matt tell you that? Because he's a liar, I swear. Ivan's just someone I know."

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that," Gilbert said with a smirk. There was a coffee shop close by and Gilbert kept the door open for Alfred as they stepped in. "Anyway, go ahead and get whatever you want."

"So, what's with you wanting to talk with me?" Alfred asked. "Isn't this kinda random? We literally just bumped into each other on the street."

"Our first conversation together was gonna be awkward no matter what," Gilbert said with a shrug. "If you want to wait for me to make a dinner and invite over the whole family, we can…"

"No, no, coffee's good," Alfred said. "At least this way, we don't need to worry about Mattie trying to make sure we get along."

"Aw, but I wanted to get along with you," Gilbert said. They ordered coffee and Gilbert tried to mull around some way for him to apologize without things getting awkward. Or angry. He really didn't want to get into a fight with Alfred in public. But there really was no way to bring up something like this without being blunt about it.

"So, what do you wanna talk about?" Alfred asked. "I'm not really a fan of awkward silences, so…"

"Well, uh," Gilbert hummed, taking the coffee offered to him. Alfred got his as well and Gilbert tapped his fingers against his cup. Now or never. "Really quick, before we start off our little relationship, I need to apologize."

"Yeah? For what?" Alfred asked.

"There's really no good way to say it?" Gilbert offered. "I've been trying to meet you so I can actually apologize."

"Just spit it out, it can't be that bad," Alfred said.

_We'll find out about that_. "Well, a while ago…I said something really stupid to your brother. And he set me straight of course, but it still doesn't erase what I did." Alfred just looked in his direction blankly and Gilbert sighed, a bad feeling twisting in his gut. "I might have…said something along the lines of a slur?"

Alfred furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Okay, it was a slur," Gilbert said. "And I apologize for it because Matt talked about how much it hurt you in the past and I didn't mean it like that and-"

"Wait, did you call me a Null?" Alfred asked bluntly, all previous friendliness completely gone from the conversation.

"What? No!" Gilbert said, shaking his head furiously despite the fact that he knew Alfred couldn't see it. "I would never call you that, I mean, you're not a-"

"Oh, but you would use it on other people?" Alfred scoffed. "What just because this Null has a name and a face you're nice to them all of a sudden? I'm sure you have plenty of eyes to spare, don't you? I should have known that you being nice to me was suspicious. You think I can't do anything on my own, right? That I'm some kind of invalid?"

"No, no, this is not how I wanted this conversation to go," Gilbert said. "I wanted to apologize."

"Great, apology not accepted," Alfred said pointedly. "Do me a favor? Stay away from my brother, I don't want someone like you rubbing off on him." Alfred made a move like he was putting the cup on the counter, but he missed and the cup and everything in it spilled all over the ground. Alfred cursed under his breath before storming out of the shop. Gilbert winced as the door was slammed shut and he looked at the other patrons, who looked away the second he looked in their direction.

Gilbert sighed. "Perfect." Time for Plan B. He had to call Matthew.


	19. TrEYE (and Fail) to Make a Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you really the blind one if other people can't see what lies ahead of them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy more turmoil and suffering from our American, by Kas. Enjoy and review! P.S. Lucille is Monaco.

_Chapter 19: TrEYE (and Fail) to Make a Change_

 

Unfocusing his already blank eyes, Alfred allowed his mind to wander, buried up to his neck in blankets. He never had the best heat during the colder seasons in his hovel, which made the blond try to regulate his body temperature to not freeze or melt to death. ' _Ivan doesn't sound like the type to be fazed by the cold,_ ' he mused, a distant look on his face. ' _Wait, why am I thinking about him? Am I really that lonely?_ ' Already in deep thought, his eyes slid in completely different directions, rendering him cross-eyed. Now that he truly thought about it, spending time with Ivan filled a void he never knew he had.

It's not like he never had friends-Elizaveta and Roderich certainly didn't count, they were his employers after all, and his estranged parents that he barely talked to since they bought him the place and he moved out, his worrywart-slash-wallflower older brother-okay, so he's never had any _real_ friends, sue him. A deafening sneeze shook him out of his reverie, causing him to wriggle further into the useless blankets. Nose running pitifully, he snorted. Figures he'd get sick from that storm a while back. He could probably complain to his landlord to stop being so damn cheap and turn on the heat in his apartment, but the old geezer'd probably babble on about 'no good Blanks' and his 'disrespect to honest courtesy from the bottom of his heart' along with other elderly nonsense. Right, like he hasn't heard him gripe before.

He knew it was a lie. His parents did give the graying man a fat stack of cash as down payment, so he couldn't exactly kick Alfred out. Plus, the rent wasn't exactly that hard to pay either. So why, after spending almost three years in the same old stomping ground, is he considering to fly the coop?

_Because of him. Ivan._

Kicking off the blankets with a dramatic flourish, Alfred sped to his closet and fumbled for an empty backpack that he had carelessly tossed inside to eventually be forgotten. He supposed he had to make a phone call or two in order for his plan to work, though he doubted he'd get away with it without Mr. 'Big-Brother-Is-Always-Watching' and his new _boytoy_ catching on. Alfred narrowed his eyes and steeled himself. _Guess this'll have to be a covert operation._ Flipping his phone open, he activated speed dial and sandwiched the phone between the crook of his neck and his ear, trying to maneuver around the house to grab a few things.

"Hey, Liz, I need to ask you a favor…"

* * *

Standing on the curb of the street, the blind blond held his thumb out as a half-assed attempt at hitchhiking. His neighbors stared out at him from their windows with various expressions, some with annoyance, others with amusement laced with disdain, and the select few who kept to themselves. Bystanders sneered at him and laughed at his stupidity, most pointing and jeering at the innocent youth.

Alfred's initial reaction would've been explosive-snarling at the people he could _feel boring seeing eyes into his skull_ and to bust some chops. Face twitching at the temptation, he squinted, his milky orbs nothing but slits as he waited impatiently for a car.

Hearing the honking of a SUV, a normal driver pulled up to the curb, causing Al's eyes to widen and to shove his wrapped hand in his pocket. A gruff, accented voice came from the driver's seat. "Get in," the stranger beckoned, patting the passenger's seat beside himself. Wary of his intentions, he stepped into the vehicle anyway and buckled up hurriedly. Fumbling for the clasp, he stabbed a few of his fingers, cursing and hissing all the while.

Sensing his trouble, the stranger reached over and buckled him in instead, giving a hum of satisfaction before pulling out of his parking space.

"Thank you so much, man." He sincerely meant it, too. No one else would have given him a second glance let alone give him a ride. "No problem. Where to?" Gruff, Alfred nicknamed him, asked, though it sounded more like a growl. Recoiling jerkily, Alfred could detect the heavy aura emanating from him and squeaked out a raspy "Westboro Plaza".

Another grunt-like response, this time one of curiosity. "Have business there?"

"Yeah…" he trailed off, afraid to disclose any more information. Even though the man's eyes were on the road, his scrutinizing side glances said it all, like he was trying to connect invisible dots.

After a brief silence between the two, Gruff muttered, "Name's Berwald. Berwald Oxenstierna."

'Aw, man, this guy's got one eye. He's been staring at me with his good one,' Alfred concluded, frowning. "Alfred F. Jones."

"F?" "Nah, it doesn't really stand for anything, but I like to think it means 'Freedom'."

Gruff-no, _Berwald_ -made some sort of keening noise in acceptance, listening to his blinkers signaling him to turn. Noticing the dying friendly atmosphere, Alfred decided to clear the air. "You must be a pretty good driver if you're driving with only one eye."

Stiffening at his comment, Berwald gripped the steering wheel tighter, giving him a deep sigh that soon gave way to soft chuckling. "First time I've ever heard tha'." Alfred quirked his head towards him in confusion, urging him to continue. He heaved another sigh.

"It's not tha' simple. When I grew up, I was fascinated with cars. Gears, levers, cranks, whole nine yards. People 'nd doctors told me I could never drive, y'know. Lack a' depth perception and all tha'. So I got good. Practiced every day, brushed myself up on the basics." He paused briefly to recollect.

"And y'know wha'? Took th' test, passed with flyin' colors, too!" The bespectacled blond chucked deeply, changing course. "Should'a seen th' look on their faces…" He trailed off uncomfortably, coughing to clear his throat awkwardly. Alfred gave him a crooked grin that read "no offense", urging him to continue.

"'S sad that they won't give people like us a chance. Barely had anyone help me, had to do things m'self. But s'okay. 'Cause 'm not alone anymore." He softly smiled at the stoplight, tapping his index fingers merrily on the steering wheel. "Tha' was th' day I met m'wife."

"She sounds lovely," Alfred complemented, feeling warm himself. The tone in Berwald's voice reminded him of cooling hot chocolate under comforting blankets. _Like Ivan…_

Berwald blushed a healthy shade of plum. "He's th' most darlin' angel I've ev'r met." Alfred choked on air. "Y'okay there?" A haste nod. "Alrigh' then. M'wife Tino used ta be a toy mak'r for one o' them fancy companies. Always forget. But it was like 'love at first sight'...er, sorta." They both laughed at his accidental pun. His laughter grew wistful as he remembered their first encounter. "Believe it 'r not, he used ta be scared of me…" Alfred's laughter came to an abrupt stop.

"Yea, he was. Said I looked intimidatin'. At firs',I thought it was the eye. Asked him if he didn't want ta see me anymore. Told me, 'Su-san, don't be a dummy! Jus' try smilin' once in a while, okei?'" His thick accent shone through his poor imitation. "Knew then and there tha' I loved 'im. Took a while, but we did get married. Though I was afraid of wha' would happen when we did. Told me again, 'Su-san, don't be a dummy. Sharin' my life with you and givin' an eye for you? I'd give it all ta just to be by your side.'"

He listened to the younger blond sniffle, overwhelmed by unadulterated love that the two had for one another. Rummaging for tissues, he airily waved one on the tip of Alfred's nose, prompting an explosive sneeze along with copious amounts of mucus.

"Oh shit, sorry," he sputtered, lifting his sleeve to wipe away the mess. Berwald nudged the whole box into his hands instead, hoping that he'd get the hint. "Didn't mean ta make you cry, y'know." Berwald apologized, upset that he had driven him to tears.

"Nah, nah, don't worry about it!" He shook his head fervently. "It just reminds me of myself, or the opposite, I guess."

"Oh?" Intrigued, Berwald took the tissue box back, placing it near the cup holder for easy access.

Alfred didn't know if opening up to a complete stranger was the best idea. It probably wasn't. But by some strange occurrence, his mouth began to spill his troubles, utterly shutting off his almost non-existent brain-to-mouth filter.

"So, let me get this straigh'.Ya met someon'-three-eyed, yea?" A nod of confirmation. ""Nd ya thought he was some crazy stalker. But now ya made friends with him, in th' case tha' ya felt guilty 'bout throwin' him under the bus." Another nod. "Catchin' feelings for him too, it seems-though you deny it-" The twenty-year-old puffed his rosy cheeks at that, "so, ya don't wanna tell him 'cause you'll look selfish. 'Nd because ya don't want pity. ' _Nd_ because you've been on your own for a while. Don't wanna give tha' up jus' yet either." Berwald pointed out.

Alfred gaped at his surprising accuracy. Before he had a chance to speak, however, Berwald broke out into exaggerated laughter, even freeing one of his hands to slap his knee. His pout worsened, his blush fully apparent on his face.

"'M sorry, it's jus'-the look on your face!" He pretended to wipe away an imaginary tear. "Wanna know wha' I think? I think you shoul' give him a chance. Either tha', or follow your gut. Even bett'r, your heart." The older man advised, sticking to the principle of "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all".

Giving Alfred time to mull it over, he pulled up to the Plaza, putting the vehicle into park and turning off the engine before patting his shoulder in reassurance. "Don't worry. You'll figur' somethin' out." Al beamed back up at him, grateful for his support. Grasping the door handle feebly, he made to get out.

"Oh, 'nd one more thing. Hand me your phone." After creating a new entry, he handed it back, bidding him a 'thank you' and 'see you' before pulling away from the building.

Berwald's words glued themselves into his subconscious as he clutched the frigid door handle and slunk inside. The air conditioning welcomed him in, blowing his hair away from his face and sending a chill down his spine. He stood there idly, mind blank on what to do next. Afraid to walk into anyone, sweat emerged on his forehead even with the cool air from the building supporting him.

He isolated the local chatter to a dull roar, processing bits and pieces of fragmented conversations. A transaction, certification of a surprise job transfer, even waiting for a friend to meet them during lunch break. Not really a cacophony of sound, a murmur, at best. Dialogue swirling through his head like a disorderly blender, his feet involuntarily took a step back.

"Hello?" A voice called out to him. He pretended to look around, confused and wide-eyed, then pointed to himself in question. "Yes, you, you straggler! Come here." The voice ordered, traces of impatience echoing through the lobby.

' _Uh-oh. How am I supposed to convince this lady that I can see? I really didn't think this all the way through…_ ' He inched his way forward, guesstimating the location of the information desk. Alfred craned his neck and hoped his eyes wouldn't stray, as they tended to do usually. Before he reached her, he had concocted a "fool-proof" plan. Slipping sunglasses onto his face and pulling his hoodie over his head, he approached the counter with fabricated confidence.

"My name is Lucille. How can I help you, _sir_?" she sneered, tapping her manicured fingernails. Her ice-blue eyes eyes wandered over his ensemble behind her thinly rimmed glasses, stopping to analyze his face. "Why the sunglasses?"

"Um, it's awfully bright in here?" He supplied, nervously twiddling his thumbs.

"Uh-huh," she answered skeptically. "Don't waste my time, _imbécile_. I'm sure there are a million other things I could be doing right now." Her accent appeared faintly, but complemented her haughty countenance.

"I'd like to request a new job application," he bit out scathingly, pissed off by her horrible attitude.

"Name?" She snapped, her hands now busy with the keyboard set in front of her. The blond gulped, prompting her to raise an eyebrow. "Name, _sir_?" Her eyes narrowed, irritated at the lack of response.

"Alfred Jones," he relented, sighing in defeat. A snide snigger escaped from her scarlet lips, pausing to request his records from the database. "Tell me, Mister Jones," she simpered, "what became of your previous occupation, hm?"

"I-I, um," he faltered for a second, "was a taste tester. But not all the time. S-Sometimes I was a clerk, working the register at a nearby bakery."

"Ah." Lucille supplied in contemplation. "So what job did you expect out of your visit here today? According to these files, you have no prior experience to apply to any of the jobs we are offering currently." Stance wavering, he shrunk into his sweater. Smirking cruelly, she continued, "Additionally, the presence of eyesight is mandatory for most jobs. Do you have that, Mister Jones? Well? Do you?"

"Speechless, are you? Oh please, did you really think you could fool me? You haven't been looking me directly in the eye since you waltzed in here. Trust me, I have an _eye_ for detail. If you think you can get away with this shameless display, you're sorely mistaken. I apologize, but we have no job openings that fit your criteria at this time. Goodbye." She waved in a mocking fashion behind the glass.

Boiling with anger, he lashed out. "Here we go again with the hierarchy bullshit. Don't you think I know there aren't much options for me? There never was from the moment my name was drawn from the lot. But I don't need some stuck up bitch with a stick up her ass to tell me that." She gasped, outraged at his accusation. "You get paid to sit here and shit on everyone else? Seems like easy living to me. But hey, while you're trapped behind that glass, I'm out here, living my life the best I can right now. How 'bout them apples, Miss Lucille?"

"I-I…" She stuttered at a loss for words.

"And before you finish that thought, let me tell you something." He leaned forward until his face plastered itself against the glass. "I may not be able to see, but I have something you'll probably never ever have. And that's a heart." Storming out at her cries for security, he sat on the sidewalk with a huff, shoving his sunglasses into his pocket. Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, he tried to stem the oncoming tears.

"Mattie...Dad...Papa...Ivan...Liz...Berwald...what do I do now?" he choked out. "Someone help me…" He curled in on himself, unaware of the sun slowly setting beyond the horizon.


End file.
